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.
