Where Luck Comes In

By Brent Johnson, Clam Gulch

The edge of English morphs a bit

as tongues go scuttling over it.

A younger ear now seldom learns

about a poem by Robert Burns.

Though he spoke in black and white

demeaning plans with great insight.

For Mouse once built a nest it seems

warm and full of winter’s dreams.

Had a plow not borne a flume

right through the Mouse’s living room.

The perfect plan may chance some turns

according to this Robert Burns.

Two hundred years and thirty more

Parades the poem from Scotland’s shore.

Till now the average English dude

just sees the words all misconstrued.

And yet how plain for Mouse and Man

that chance affects the proudest plan.