Peggy Aylsworth – IV

In Unexpected Places 

 

 

 

 

To consider the question

of generosity you might

begin with the laundress

who revealed God

to the monk in his virgin bed.

How our city lights deprive

the eye, the soul – as the night sky

flinging its infinite gift,

its windows, the fire and ice

that spiral the mind beyond

the cozy myths of man.

It reaches toward daylight,

closing the distances.

Given half a chance the flower

on my table, a fragrant star-gazer,

will offer heights more humble

than the heavens, but

widen the air I breathe.

On the walk along the beach

a jazz musician blows

a month of Sundays

from his blazing brass

with nothing more to prove.

His round-notes swing

with the wind, whirl the astounded…

passers into a sacred dance.

Did someone forget

to fill the chalice?

Forgiveness will pour the wine

when all else fails.