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MAGIC OF AUGUST
MAGIC OF AUGUST
We stand – poised – aghast
‘twixt enraptured Summer and
Entrancing Autumn
PASSING MESSENGERS
PASSING MESSENGERS
The smallest of details
When it catches our eye
May serve to remind us
Rainbows surround us
WHAT A LARK
WHAT A LARK
One need not have a beautiful voice
In order to sing among these clouds
For to sing among these clouds
Has already a beauty of its own
BIT PART
BIT PART
Anonymous, unavowed
This unremarkable string
Fastened in place with pegs
To the harp’s framework
No specific name or title
Beyond the one designated
Conventionally to this one
Frequency of vibration
In one among various
Tonal systems – Pinned
The name, the tone, is true
Only if the string is stretched
To one unvarying degree
Not too tense, nor too slack
That one pure perfect note
Which, plucked over and over
Soon becomes monotonous
Quite void of all interest
A bore, dull and tedious
No wonder – Look at the word
Shush, they’re about to begin
The harp gives angelic voice
Our unremarked string sings
No longer a sole monotone
Key note in the heavenly choir
The Book Of Guff 