But the room is cold, the words in the books are cold;
And the question of whether we get what we ask for
Is absurd, unanswered by the sound of an unlatched door
Rattling in the wind, or the sound of snow on roofs, or glare
Of the winter sun. What we have learned is not what we were told.
I watch the snow, feel for the heartbeat that is not there.
— Weldon Kees, from “Early Winter,” The Collected Poems of Weldon Kees. (Bison Books; 3 edition December 1, 2003)