Occasional Impressions

Gemini 3

Easter

Pews flower-bedecked
And people singing.
The joy of life
Is rising in us, ringing
Through flesh and stone.

I could believe, but words
All too precise entomb
The gladness.
Reason’s catacomb
Is built of words I understand.

At least the song of birds
Remains mysterious. Still
We, the word-alert, can thrill
To thrush and lark,
Our minds unstirred
To faithless protest.

The Latin sombre chant is gone,
For instant meaning
Have we lost belief?

I hope I never understand the birds.

emn

return to Gemini 3 contents.