if I tell you there’s a relation between
equality and prequalifications,
you’ll see its easiest math;
exemplary family members, growing—
and if I say there’s this relationship
with the imaginary lines we draw on a map
and the great breadth that is your back,
maybe you’ll look up the Latin, and smile back—
so why when I cry that there in the sky
there’s a home for me and my only eye,
you call me a poet, and bid me show it,
the greater goal we’ll pick apart.
and when today the clouds were fairest,
as though written by the breeze’s pen,
proving the lightness of a summer Sunday,
as it draws to its leisurely close,
and I sit and await the heavenly glow,
to lay out-stretched upon her horizon—
that they would think the soul to rest!
seeing gold shine through the earth and all its wrought.