Certain Things Are Created In Beauty, Over And Over... Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

In lieu of God's purposive hands,
nature rolls up for sleeves stern electric storms.
Rough forks of fire forge with spark-showers, hammers
and anvils the micro-macro-man- size orders;
rolling thunder lays loud terms.

But, sure, what this world is, is not by words
explained. Then here are our days. These times
with rain and sunshine as prerequisites
and our thought involved in dreams.



All seems echoes- shadows of trees at dusk of day-
as if they're somehow in all our minds
at all times. Mere forever goes down drains
before this realm, before these fade away.

For don't you remember (all Johns and Janes)
how once, long ago, when you were very young,
heaven was literally contained within your hands
that gave bread to birds in woods by Welkin Way?