The Beauty That Is All Around Them Poem by Robert Rorabeck

In the cooling day I stumble from,
Down from the higher basins where angels gossiping
Is drowned out by sun showers
And waterfalls,
Retreating so far as to be the equal of the sea- and
In the soft shadows and airconditioning,
Reciting for her- the muse- the few things I’ve
Ever thought:
Tomorrow will be Easter, and I will sell crickets
Underneath the overpass
Look at how they will change in the sun,
Searching for a tree to climb,
Or a blue elbow to kiss because school will be out:
Out, so boys won’t have to be truants to play a
Game of ball,
And arranged together in their pinstriped
Show- they will play games and put on performances
For you that neither you nor they will ever know:
But I will think of them, and I will think of you,
Like a match stricken in the oven of a church,
Lit for a virgin who is almost blind to me, but forever
Beautiful:
And they will run around you, worshipping the beauty
That is all around them that they should never see.