Life as we know it is great expectation
fulfilling itself: or it’s drudgery.
I suppose, the dawn’s bright presentation
gives the day primal form and imagery;
it pulls up cities on guy-ropes of light,
expressing itself in the huge turnout
of traffic, trains, planes, everything in sight;
the crystal ball that draws, to be about
what’s next: the snatch to turn the paper’s pages,
the scheming coffee, the what’s after work,
the big match, TV listings; all engages
the yet to be; entered, a moment’s worth
turns out to be, and then it is relinquished:
a thing that’s from eternal life distinguished.