Days the weather sits
in the endless sky,
the clouds drifting by.
The winter's snow,
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdb7fq-gZ-4BNqMkcte1zeLUYhe3bf6RTX99vcoLwJWijqXJR_TcYFOqqzasOgHrAXXOB0fWrzWcwCF9t-gUV8UNLuCgsugfqlJC4ORs5MnPmK4ueQ_YwmfQKg-Q3eScLgr8OMZufglP8/s320/streets_2D00_of_2D00_montreal_2D00_carole_2D00_spandau.jpg)
same street.
Nothing changes
but the faces, the people,
all the things they do
'spite of heaven and hell
or city hall—
Nothing's wiser than a moment.
No one's chance
is simply changed by wishing,
right or wrong.
What you do is how you get along.
What you did is all it ever means.
Image credit: "Paintings of Verdune—Winter Street Scene—Montreal," oil on canvas, by Carole Spandau (originally color).
Those last two lines pack a wallop.
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