Darwin

In a photo

on the front of a book, 

along with a feather

one assumes he wrote with

after the death of his daughter,

Darwin looks like a sad gorilla.

He has a gentle, intelligent mein

asking for little, perhaps nothing more 

than continued being, alive and aware

under furry eyebrows.

He seems to be thinking of existence.

Ready or not, there he is:

sorrowed and wondering, 

amassing data,

uncertain how the family will fare.