for B. J. C.
Up to the things of day, old man,
Up like the sun, for a briefer time;
Up to the kettle, up to the table,
To the tiny kitchen of yellow rays
Jewelling the breakfast crumbs.
Here is your shaver. Keep at bay
The daily push to rank disorder for
As long as you are able.
Love is left in spite of all
Your sins and weaknesses have been –
Not huge, by the world’s black heights.
Wash your face again with common water, though
The star that lifts and gifts this day
Is night on your world’s side