two side of the coin

we see the flaws and patiently point them out
this needs to work and that thing needs repair
we stand outside in the swift-warming air
and see they've fixed the gutters and the spout
the job's near done it's almost time to shout
the end's in sight the process almost fair
though at each step it's brought both cry and tear
and other things we could have done without
but now we've got another thing to do
another worry that will our pressures raise
and lead us swiftly to the edge of tears
for each good thing an evil swings in view
there's a dark side to every changing phase
some things become far harder with the years

the sun in my office

the way that colours merge on sunlit walls
that whites and yellows brighten into smiles
the way that glory rests upon the piles
of books and papers that's when brightness falls
not from but through the air the moment calls
out to us it asks us to praise the careful wiles
of light we'll do this in our proper styles
as on the door the brilliant marker crawls
a life's story lies upon these shelves upright
or sideways the books appear to spill
out from the wall at you their urgent desire
to merge with mind in the wintery light
with knowledge every empty crevice to fill
to set my dry drab scholar's soul on fire

the normal heart

in the last analysis nobody can win
the game is rigged from start to end
all of our chances end up in the bin

the way we do the job is simply spin
we mark each fad and note each trend
in the last analysis nobody can win

the lottery's over and it didn't begin
the world ignores the messages we send
all of our chances end up in the bin

against the rails we always bang a shin
we get back less than half of what we lend
in the last analysis nobody can win

the beggar with his half-full coin tin
on our irregular charity cannot depend
all of our chances end up in the bin

we've censured love and labelled it a sin
we do most good just when we don't intend
in the last analysis nobody can win
all of our chances end up in the bin

the day ends as it began

the clock says time is passing but it lies
we do the passing and i'll soon be gone
this day's over a few dollars won
time's like a bird that southward flies
in darkling cloud that scuds the skies
before the winds with ease they run
to rest before the rising of the sun
time's emissary in whatever guise
the walls matte white and stained
tell me that i'm in here far too late
but that's my job and it's my duty
to take life as it is rough unstrained
attend to matters before meeting fate
glad of the few moments of real beauty

approaching bedtime

the day's been long and what i need is rest
i sit and sip some water lost in thought
when all is said and done water is best

the thought of water seems to be a test
thirst is with many subtle meanings fraught
the day's been long and what i need is rest

we start each day as journey or as quest
at night we find out what our work has bought
when all is said and done water is best

between the harsh demands our lives are pressed
we know at least the things that we have wrought
the day's been long and what i need is rest

though tired and shaky we are undistressed
the troubles of the day are set at naught
when all is said and done water is best

to our surprise life keeps its zip and zest
we always gain the things which we have sought
the day's been long and what i need is rest
when all is said and done water is best