(on receiving my new glasses in the mail this last Thursday)
Gently placed by transient seraphim
the focus snaps and pops – the citrus grove,
the brassicas, a small ball of wet sky transiting a leaf,
the stretch and calculation of the brown snail
(helical shell whorled within worlds),
its tiny jaws, its thousand consequential teeth.
Now lifts the fog of middle distance
(metaphor for my callow equivocation)
I’m back from the desert,
the high places & behold it works !
Everything’s endearing, moving in time
the ballet of peak hour, articulate clouds.
High in the thermals vultures shadow
migrations fording the mighty Congo.
Some silliness for your Sunday enjoyment. And here’s Hallelujah Junction by American Composer John Adams, when one very big piano still isn’t enough.