Be Thou My Vision
Cracking the cookie left me with crumbs
and a fortune. She swept the former to
the floor and took the latter from my hand:
An old wish will come true.
Whaddaya think that means? Which wish?
Oh, I don’t know. Time is so old.
Well, play along Methuselah. Which wish?
Alright, let’s see, how about the one
where its early October and I’m walking
the pond at dusk with the geese following me
and the breeze in the Japanese maple draws
my attention to you sitting on the front
steps with your arms above your head
stretching from the day and we see one another’s
eyes and wave, you first, then me, me this
older man with crumbs and a fortune, and I tell
the geese by god I’m a lucky duck?
She grins and passes the narrow slip of paper
back to me. She is silent as I over-tip then says I doubt
they’ll let you keep geese in the brownstone.
they’ll let you keep geese in the brownstone.
So few words, yet I got totally wrapped up in the story.
Beautiful, John. Only you aren’t old, not by a long shot. Not as long as you keep having visions like this one. Peace to you, friend.