Stonecrop clings like starfish,
pink and spotted on the rock, and I
still cling to peppy illusion. I don’t
think I’m alone in my hope

that if we hold out
our stardust arms,
stretch our starry palms,
maybe we
can turn the tide,
wear razor cliffs
down to a shine.

Call me naïve,
but what’s that quote?
The one from Margaret Meade?
Never doubt
that small a group of committed
suckers
can change the world.