I think of the nestling fallen into the deep grass,
The turtle gasping in the dusty rubble of the highway,
The paralytic stunned in the tub, and the water rising,
All things innocent, hapless, forsaken.
The Meadow Mouse, Theodore Roethke
Installation by Esther Stocker
The tree was planted, and why not for him?
If not, why place him near it, where it grew,
The fairest in the center? They have but
One answer to all questions, "'Twas his will,
And he is good." How know I that? Because
He is all-powerful, must all-good, too, follow?
I judge but by the fruits- and they are bitter-
When I must feed on for a fault not mine.
Caín, Lord Byron
