When I consider, in the Sistine light,
The hand of Adam and the hand of God,
Their fingers meeting in the gift of Life,
I see the vital spark from left to right
Ignite and spring. So much for Genesis.
In Man’s own image, God’s persona grows
And languid Adam life on God bestows.
November 1990
To you my dearest chick I send this night
My love and birthday greetings, that they may
Like blossom from some Maytime fruit tree fall
Upon your pillow as you lie asleep,
And linger on your eyes and on your lips
And every part of you that I do know,
And tell you in your dreaming how I miss
Your patient love and gentle womanhood.
To Judy in Italy on her birthday
1966
Come with me to the brow of the hill,
The wind in the pines is singing still
And the sun is high in the sky.
From the top we’ll get a glimpse of the sea,
Of the misty islands of Arcady
And the distant mountains high.
There lies the ocean the Argonauts crossed,
Where Ulysses and his ship were tossed
For ten full winters long,
Turned into swine by the witch Circe,
Lulled by the fruit of the lotus tree
And the winged sirens’ song.
Over the sea on the Southern side
Are the lands of Africa, dark and wide,
And the fountains of the Nile.
There on its shores in the burning sun,
To the myriad insects metallic hum,
Basks the watchful crocodile.
Away to the West, beyond the trees,
Stand the mighty Pillars of Hercules
Where the wild Atlantic flows.
And on this side, from their Carthage home
Came Hannibal’s elephants bound for Rome
Through the shining Alpine snows.
So come with me to the brow of the hill,
The wind in the pines is singing still
And the sun is high in the sky.
From the top we’ll get a glimpse of the sea,
Of the misty islands of Arcady
And the distant mountains high.
(Camping in Frejus 1980)
I have a homing instinct for the stars 