The Optimism Principle

The gods are no more unwilling to listen than usual, babies are still pulled from the rubble, sometimes, and the Council will never collect old mattresses, they recline in lay-bys like nudes, as normal. My gate-latch only grinds into the strike if forced, and I forget to check lottery tickets, some of which may win us a tenner, but March sun still draws strength from white daffodils, and rabbits eat my lettuces in summers now, as ever, and home remains a flicker of a grin, the kitchen light on, a radio playing.