A Modern Psalm

Throw the white blanket
And sing a lullaby.
What wailed young green
Battled all summer.
Autumn is another thing:
A gift to the poor. No king
Could eat orchards, field
After field by himself. Hence
Preserves for the rest,
Rest for the field,
A field for each man
In which to stand
And say: "I have lived
"through a season":

Wealth beyond kings,
Save one who weighs
What he holds in his palm
And bends to caress
A world or a brow,
A child or a psalm.


© Dan Goorevitch, 1998