After the cleansing downpour,
I like to think the muddied pool
Left in the scoop of the shovel
Reflects on a clear blue sky,
There in the sweet by-and-by—
Where a spade is always a spade,
No matter how
Many times it’s been buried
By upright citizens
Covering up one more lie.
Beautiful! Not at all where I thought the poem would end up: from sweet nature poem to tart social comment. What a fine swerve!
ReplyDeleteSmall wonder that dog has left the area and is waiting for us in the nave.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Joe--reminds me of that old line "Round and round she goes, where she stops nobody knows"--though we all know, even Tom's six-sensed canine.
ReplyDelete