A/N: This is about one Sunday in October...Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld gave a press briefing, and for the oddest of reasons he reassured me. I think that the poem is sort of self-explanatory, but I just wanted to give some background ^-^

Watching Secy. Of Defense Donald Rumsfeld Give A Press Briefing

When one Sunday came
In late fall, and our
New Room was still an
Enclosed shell of a Thing,
And it feels as if it
Was an entirely different
Time, tho' really only
Suddenly weeks add
On to each other, only this is
Not about weeks or days,
But about a certain
We were still shaken
Tho' we are now, but we have
Always been those who
Take days and take strides
To make them more than days--
Which should say a lot of us, but in
Late fall, fires still smoked,
And we still looked out of
Ashy eyes, silent in a
Protracted moment
Suddenly, tho' there was a
Flurry of instantly irritating
Snow-flashes, and that dissuaded me from
Journalism for a time, but not from
A stunning suited man--and
Official-- dealing with circling
Flies, yet--
I felt no lack
Of concern on his
Part--more so even

I suppose we should refrain
From trusting politicians, it is
Bred into us, but it was also
Bred into us, to assume steel
Will test logic--arrogance gives
Us an immunity, and the World

We know that now.

But one part of time, one past
Sunday, I found to trust a man
In a gray suit, to--if not
Reform steel--then to defend
Its arrogance.
Those journalists--well
Tho' I always dreamed of being
As them, I would rather be as I was--
Sitting in a half-completed House
And suddenly finding solace in an honest
-or otherwise-
Wearing a suit of steel gray