XI. Resolutions and Beginnings   The cold time of beginnings is the middle Of the progress to an end. So little; Looking back, I see how very little can Deflect the course of miracles. A man Who looks into the smoothing, sleepy snow That turns the colored chaos monochrome May think: My life has smoothed just so; My life, resolved, in nine quick months. A home, A family, a future I will trust to grow Like vines, at once support and pendent weight, Thick grape to my strong stake, solid as fate. No resolution made can make it so. We cast the dice to win the perfect mate; We learn the dice are loaded, much too late.