At the Hinge

The sum of these parts and more,
Your mind adds us to your life,

Just a bunch of smart, plain things.
Here’s a word for what you like.

Here’s one for a mood you loathe,
And one for the way the sun

Can look pale as a full moon
In the dark gloss of pine trees.

Here’s a word for that love felt
Once you’ve lost what you loved most.

Here’s a word that helps you paint
The true tints of the cruel things

Mobs of groups who love their groups
Did, will do, to you and yours.

At the hinge of things that are
And things that live, eat, and die,

Here we are, here to serve you.
There’s no word for what words are.