Tonight, I miss the ones who showed.

To see a paramecium;
About symbolic logic, and
The formulas for premium;
The poetry of Robert Frost,
The Howard Hanson Symphonies;
The colors of a Van Gogh sky,
The truth hidden in memories.

What great short stories were about;
The way to shoot a basketball,
The way to let a phrase just breathe,
To see the picture overall.
The way a cat can come to trust,
The harmonies in Debussy;
The reasons why we might enjoy
And need a little tragedy.

But most of all, tonight, I miss
The one who taught me how to read,
The teacher who lived in our house;
Who wanted us all to succeed.
There is joy in discovery
For we are learning creatures:
And now I miss the loving ones
Who spent their lives

As teachers

Behold, the play unfolds, and I
Am seated near the center row:
I hear the voice of yesterday,
Those too-familiar strains I know –

That we do means everything;
That’s there no “thing” we can’t arrange,
And that we’re unsuspecting of
A vanity
That does not

Change

The world will be a better place,
For we are here, and we have seen
The progress of the sciences.
We won’t go back to where we’ve been.

For understanding will bring wisdom,
Wisdom will bring love, and truth –
And all will be enjoined in hope,
And tired age at last give way

To youth

We’ll win the war from here. We will
Map strategy, and train our troops,
And no will withstand what we unleash.
This is our sacred cause:
To uphold and defend the motherland
From all who would invade:
And not to turn on those
Who forced us here.

The waterways are still the best:
Less friction there to overcome.
No lift or drag to deal with like
Those crazy air machines.
This country’s made for boats –
Our waterways, pristine –
And we’re a nautical folk, still,
At heart.

No visions of a world that’s fed,
No scientific marvel:
No path to grander, finer things
Of silk or gold or marble,

Just having someplace they can work
And try to be together,
And fight against the evil ones:
Mortality

And weather

These cottages within the view
Of sweeping sand and ocean,
Will certainly bring those who feel
The rush of pure emotion

That comes when one has luxury,
That beacon of effulgence:
The first resort or last resort
Of humans is

Indulgence

We built upon the mountainsides;
We built within the valleys.
Far from our forerunners’ delight
In cobbled streets, and alleys

We built to see the Hand of God
Come sweeping up, majestic:
The unity of nature in
A scene that’s still

Domestic

You children don’t remember, do you?
When we searched the countryside for water,
We could wander off for days
And never find a thing of any use
To anyone.

Now, we build these towers,
Water flows to every house
And no one even asks
“How does it get there?”

We designed this world:
Its superstructure, anyway.
And what we gave our lives to find
Comes to you in the dark, unthinking.