The Invitation
When I see the blazing of the redbud tree,
The tulips filled with ruby and with ivory,
The sunlight poured with lavishness inside and out,
A moment then suspended is our churlish doubt,
The naming for the banquet given out by One
Who sets the goblets for us and pours out the sun
How soon these moments of perception dull and fade,
The redbud candelabrum had been never made,
The tulips never planted and the sun ungiven,
Returned in spectral disappearance to its prism,
And that uprising, taken back and unsurprised,
Returned by some unholy magic to the eyes
Do not yet withdraw the invitation, Master,
For we are slow by lack of trust and loathe to answer
Pavel
April 14, 2011
