Two Times Diverged

Two times diverged in the city street

And unsure with which I felt at ease

And looking forward and back to meet

The warmth of sun, or smell of peat,

The grey of lanes or the green of trees.

So there at dawn the morning rose,

And the night lay down behind the west,

Where others welcomed sunset’s close;

And winter’s trumpet, loudly blows

The fanfare of the cold and stressed.

But little care have I of weather

As my wine now tastes of bitter pill

And all my bird is just a feather,

And I have a cow, instead of leather,

The early sunlight draped with bitter chill.

This late, late walk in the morning throng

And head filled with song and regret

Regret for having sung too long

Yet urged to sing I lingered on

Regret I remember, the song I forget

The valiant night sneaks off while I talk

And the morning arrives in a fire

While I spend all night in chase of the moon

I may as well paddle sea with a fork

For as long as I desire.

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