I THINK OF PAST BEAUTY


Pictures of the lovely scenes
I’ve witnessed in my life 
Appear before my inner eye,
Odd moments through the day:

The view from a café in my home town;
The moon, behind the tree outside 
My window in a rooming house;
New snow on morning streets—
Silent scenes, brought 
Back to life by what?

Each picture is a refuge,
A reservoir of peace
Conjured against
Some stress of present life.

Yet, when I take the frame away
And see each in the context 
Of the period surrounding it,
I realize those weren't happy times
But full of loneliness and dread.

Each picture is a lie, and yet
Its beauty somehow tells the truth.

 

recent poems 2003-4

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