OPPORTUNITY

Today has an opportunity
for me to read
the bard Mallarme
in French
after I pray for grace
on my lips
at the back bench
of the church
saying,"Lord search my heart"
as I 'm always confessing sins
on my knees
watching the relics
of the Apocalypse,
then from the faint windows
of my hallway I witness
an arrest of druggies
in a shadowy withdrawal
from their delirium,
as I head for my kayak
to check on the anchor,
then feed the birds
hidden in the open fields
quoting the words in the prayer
of the poet saint Francis,
there is an increase of first light
along the Cape's country way
as if I'm in Ovid's Metamorphosis
under the cathedral ceiling
as lofty shadows embrace me
and I will play
from my ''Peace Quartet"
revealing the notes
of a thousand riffs on the sand
with smooth jazz on my sax,
then relax in my backyard
amid the flow of the river
as the steady sun rises
above me in my attic
by my sound proof studio loft
where I practice my music
in my aesthetic holy grail,
soon the early luminous
soft rains wash by me
along the bluish shore
as Northeast winds
blush with geometric shapes
as I'm setting sail again
sighting a humpback whale
with Goody a scientist
from Woods Hole Observation
taking its forensics,
then at my windows
meeting Eddie the postman
originally from Haiti
to share a morning menu
of green tea and leaven
knowing that every diversity
has a purpose under heaven
from Whitman's sons
and Emily Dickinson's daughters
written in my daily narrative,
then at noon being jostled
by heavy magnetic waves
and the sea's symmetrical
high tide
curving in ts waters
and lively squalls,
I'm engraving my words
as bz initials
on my own Maple tree
in an enigmatic way,
listening to a Bach cantata
near the tall dunes,
as the spirit of a poet
has set me free
on this day of opportunity.