SOME MISFORTUNE


When some misfortune
has begun to overpower us
when our lives
are like a sparrow rescued
between my hands
and knees
and I'm on all fours
in the sand's narrow garden
by a June' yellow crocus
and heavy wild red roses
in the Arden woodland
where I scurry
by the Charles river bed
for some of us seek pardon
others turn away
or hurry to flee in doors
instead,
yet I prefer no old wounds
to reappear
as my initials outlast on trees
or simply ignore any vanity
as in Shakespeare's fast wit
as a sore will vanish
in a night's jazzy bacchanal
after the laughter of a Jesuit,
yet I'm here to rescue and save
those of us who are hurt
by changing our better nature
and to behave
even in the dirt,
or simply to gently flirt
or read a lovely poetry
of the Spanish Moors
on a luminous sunny day.