Wednesday, August 17, 2016

Impermanence means transitory
And all in all the same old story
But like Bill Wordsworth I see the glory.

The rainbow comes and goes
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

And maybe it is too much wine
But I think of Jimmy Valentine
And old black man who in 58.
Called to me and said "Hey, wait."
I think you dropped this baseball card."
And I didn't find it very hard
To say in a fine amaze
"Jesus Christ, it's Willie Mays."
And pretend that that was my card.
And he didn't find it very hard
To laugh and watch me run away
With a glory given for that day.


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