watching a house rise

the speed that work happens has to amaze
we watch as walls rise but matters are not done
the men are sweating under the harsh sun
and yet each thing is done in proper phase
the house goes up as we astonished gaze
along the sides we watch the workers run
the heat that blazes does not seem to stun
nothing that happens can these heroes daze
the world changes before us and we smile
at all that's done and how it's done so well
and yet we wonder how the light and heat
don't bother them nor ever cramp their style
on such a day such labour must be hell
but they will not admit that they are beat

answer came there none

ignorance is the great affliction of the wise
who know what little they can truly know
good fortune can send only single spies

against the daily onslaught of sweet lies
the truth itself can scarcely live and grow
ignorance is the great affliction of the wise

those who know not the answer we despise
but not the ones who will not ever go
good fortune can send only single spies

who gets the prize is the one who most denies
that luck and chance will always move too slow
ignorance is the great affliction of the wise

we do not see the moon nor the sun rise
but long to be enfolded in their glow
good fortune can send only single spies

each of us looks out with old tired eyes
we see the hammer but won't feel the blow
ignorance is the great affliction of the wise
good fortune can send only single spies

richer than emeralds

the qualities of light are what we see
in the lush green that forms a sort of wall
we listen to the avian song and call
and note the brilliant texture of the tree
the mystery which each mind must decree
is not explained by medium at the stall
the luminescence that on each must fall
is not a thing of rank nor of degree
except we ask ourselves the proper sense
of all our lives and what will nature's grace
provide for us against the coming night
the truth is she will make no false pretense
of showing other than her proper face
as much in darkness as now in the light

power of the sun

where the frame of day falls at last to night
still it stays warm and few clouds mark the sky
insensibly we have arrived at summer might

there's still a soft and pleasant even light
the treetops don't seem quite as far or high
where the frame of day falls at last to night

we remake images into a single clear sight
nobody stops to ask wherefore or why
insensibly we have arrived at summer might

to name the power means we have got it right
the joyous birds cry out as home they fly
where the frame of day falls at last to night

the frames and shades reflect a different white
we do not note such things as time goes by
insensibly we have arrived at summer might

makers of grey magic sing us out of blight
another trade they soon will have to ply
where the frame of day falls at last to night
insensibly we have arrived at summer might