|
Bits On waves in
rippled space |
|
|
Commentary
|
“I want to see, I want to see,”
my little grandson pulls on me.
I lift Jack up that he may point
to firemen smiling from their truck,
hooting when they whoop its horn;
next horses and a marching band,
and, by God, an elephant thumps ahead
of open cars and pretty girls, I notice,
waving to a squad of cyclists,
black and red and white and blue,
in the parade that’s passing through.
It’s then I see I want to see
new poets, next musicians, scouts,
explorers of the quarks and stars,
global warming, if more caring,
undoing of some old diseases:
all he may see this century,
seeing he cannot shoulder me.
Day By Day is also available in AUDIO BOOK with song and anthem