Sophrosyne
How good to wake up to an overcast summer sky,
To find the trees and houses washed in rain;
The leaves emerge luxuriant from the drip-drop
Of a generous shower – a new beginning
For all that has rested well and risen early;
The sun relents, a waking dream ensues,
Necessity is trodden with a sleepwalk sureness.
A moment, the only time there is to think if we
May find our happiness without a cause,
If slithering down the slopes of life’s organic course
The greatest joy is simply manifest:
The child already knows how to be pleased and pained;
Its slightest gestures bloom into persuasions
With no recourse to the homunculus of reason.
Is growing up not also a long cremation
Of soap bubble dreams into ashy attributes?
Not silly enough to laugh, and play at life,
Grow sillier still to frown and laugh down on silly games?
Wisdom has acquired too austere a name,
But its sweeter fruits and blossoms always return a smile
On trees of shade that mark our onward tread.
