POEM
The Connoisseur of Starts
He loved the quick and hot commencements best:
The rip and flow of tides in early spring.
He loved the inklings most. As for the rest,
They seemed a paltry sequel to the brisk morning.
Cacophonous birds twittered in the light,
Wild chirpings from an elemental source.
And what remained of singing through the night
Seemed like the broken canter of a limping horse.
Trees blossomed, but before their leaves had turned
He’d found other landscapes, other regions.
And couldn’t warm himself where once he’d burned
As the initiate of countless legions.
But now he felt his mastery extending—
In fits and starts: the connoisseur of endings.
Reprinted from The Wages of Goodness by Michael Blumenthal by permission of the University of Missouri Press. Copyright © 1992 by the Curators of the University of Missouri.
Source: The Wages of Goodness (University of Missouri Press, 1992)
Michael C. Blumenthal is a poet and educator who has also ventured into essays, memoirs, and . . . MORE »
