57. “A Prelate in his Black and White”

A poem from AS WELL AS CAN BE EXPECTED: Selected poems, including Things need not be this way, by Richard L. Rose

A prelate in his black and white

A prelate in his black and white
and rufous-sided stole,
the towhee comes late afternoon

to minister to greedy eyes.
Three dips and he’s off.
Perfunctory surprise dispensed,

he disappears. The days roll on,
less sudden griefs than slowing
pulses, growing vacancies

as transient mixtures go their way.
I’m left as I am,
something missing from the mix,

a bit a bungler, unambitious,
inclined to compromise
and back off rather than insist.

How to find the elements
I’ve missed, reconstitute
intention from dispersed routines,

and beam coherently and brave
escapes me. The effort dies.
From some conclave, the bird returns.
Surprise! The heart still burns.

Here’s the deal (Yes, there’s a deal — although no coins or bitcoins are involved): If you are reading these poems, we are communicating and maybe even communing. Except I don’t know about it as long as you keep your peace. Please make a response, even if it’s only “Duly noted.”