I lied. I thought I’d avoid election eve results but between my own overwhelming curiosity and Laura’s, we’ve been glued to the computer since coming home from curling; we have only the two Canadian TV stations and neither is covering the election until the late evening news. Laura is madly and gleefully filling in her electoral college map.
I needed something to read by the computer, so I grabbed a poetry book from the shelf around the corner. I decided nothing could be better for tonight than Carl Sandburg, a man of the people, a man from Main Street who knew how to use words and who was born and raised in Illinois. The title of the book in my hand is Rainbows Are Made, which seems a good thought for tonight.
by Carl Sandburg
The single clenched fist lifted and ready,
Or the open asking hand held out and waiting.
For we meet by one or the other.
I am relieved that so many of us chose the open hand rather than clenched (“Fight, fight!”) fist.