Unseasonably
cold this Palm Sunday. Coffee
on the patio,
both hands cup the cup.
God of ironies, double
of human success,
stay awhile as sun-
shine burns through the morning fog
and things flatten out.
Palm Sunday
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Glosses on texts by William Desmond
Lovely reflection with Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem by way of one gate on the colt while the Romans enter teh city through the grander gate in the background. For me, the concluding lines are striking. Flatness is a big problem in our times. THe poem seems to dance between personal and universal concerns and nperspectives in a way only real art can carry off with such finesse.
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Beautifully handled as usual Tom, with a quiet voice, consistent with the other poems in this series, and offering readers a lot to think about. For me, these lines bring Wallace Stevens’ Sunday Morning to mind – not simply because of Sunday and morning but because in that poem he too is musing about the nature of faith and hope, and giving room for doubts about a specific creed.
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I clicked ‘send ‘ prematurely. I would have edited out my simplistic resumé of Stevens’ poem, which you probably know better than I anyway. But there you are: your poem had set me thinking, as a good poem should.
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Thanks for the fine response, John! I’m glad Steven’s great poem came to mind. Little poems like mine sort of depend on good and generous readers like you. I had not thought of Stevens!
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