Rhapsody

 

 

That which is beautiful I know,

A sonata by Mozart,

a mobile by Calder,

a blues rift lifted off the neck of Lucile

by BB. King.

The three days in October

when there is no other word

for Southern New England but pastel.

The list goes on like a Whitman poem.

Bubbles up in the ball jar

of my head after the harvest.

When the vacuum’s set

the metal lid puckers in.

I know those beans will last.

 

So beauty keeps me upright.

As movement is to bike riding

so beauty is to balance.

It catches my wobble and

spins out from its hub,

gravity.

 

Even so,

the child yesterday

carried on her mother’s hip

reaching out her soft finger

and touching the condensation

upon my plastic milk jug

at the supermarket,

and the way she said “cold.”

Her pure rhapsody,

masterful, timeless.

 

©2002  Dan Kantak