PARADISE

It was a cloudy day in paradise

And the kids came out to play.

The breeze in the pool more like a hissing

Of soft words and supple sounds.

The boughs lag in the wind,

The clouds cruise, the bodies buoy in the pool.

Green and blue and whiteness prance about,

Speckled in yellow and red,

Minding the slings of sun and clouds in peek-a-boo.

Words and photos hang mute

Before the bash of pure experience.

 

You dear, in the brown:

Trying to be beautiful is difficult,

So be beautiful as you are.

And you, in the red:

Being beautiful is difficult.

 

And you boys, shaped for hunting and war,

With no channel here but your hoots and somersaults,

Know what no one ever tells us:

Be yourselves, and let the ladies come to you.

 

Beware the boys, my babies;

They are not men and know not what they do.

But love yourselves, and one another,

And swim.

 

 

 

NOTES

Composed at the WET West Pool of the W Hotel in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. Monday, March 9, 2020. The breeze…sounds “The Poems of Our Climate” by Wallace Stevens. “shaped for hunting…” “But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks” “Richard III” 1.1. know not what they do The Bible KJV Luke 23:34.

 

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