Who Knows Where We Are Going?
Who knows where we are going when we set
Off every day? We start out for the shops
And meet the one we’ve always dreamed of, Brett
Or Betty. Or we pass a winter copse
While on a bus to Oxford, open wide
Our book, . . . and find ourselves transported to
Byzantium: a boring day is dyed
With colors of mosaics and the spew
Of incense from gold thuribles. A cup
Of tea recalls the sweep of Srinigar.
A glimpse of garden green lifts dreaming up
To ogee gateways raised in Shalimar.
..The ordinary universe is fair:
….Sly serendiptiy lurks everywhere.
|
|
by phillipw | Jan 12, 2020 | SE |