The Winds of Wonder

Our Almond Tree

You asked me:

“What’s that sound?”

Yes, it seemed quite unusual, loud.

I went to the courtyard,

Even past our almond tree,

And looked around.

True, there was a large crowd,

But that was nothing new.

Was it then a fluttering hue?

Was it the birth of an ant

With all drumbeat and chant?

Yet you were curious:

“Pale-striped is the sky?”

So I went to our Computer Room

And built a pile of digits,

Oh the lamenting misfits!

What I had taken for heaven’s tail

Was simply a kitchen-broom

That had come in the yester-mail.

Even then you enquired:

“Do the horizons end?”

There is always the evermore,

The wonder and joy of the surprising;

Lightyears terminate not space.

Then in the depth of night

I set up a tele-eye

A huge piece of glass.

You stretched your sight

And jubilantly admired

The flickerings of a firefly;

You crossed another sky, —

Its tranquility filling you and me,

And our almond tree.

A Kitchen Broom