The Stain Of Love Is Upon The World

A blind man walks in the park tapping a white cane
on a path of compact red earth.
He has snowy white hair, and wears a light blue shirt
with a pair
of chinos and brown leather shoes.
I meanwhile sat nearby on a bench -- he halted in the middle

distance.  Raised his wide, open face to the
high crown
of a wind-tossed tree.  For it was a windy day.
And in that tree a yellow Oriole sang,
and it sang till your heart would break
for it!
A lovely song it was.  And even if these were

the days of ancient Rome, that moment would be
ever present
and could never be erased -- so it is today, and forever,
now; thus
(what I mean to say is) we made a lovely triangle
whether in chinos or togas or yellow feathers --
and all about us and within us a little heaven which
never ceases
to overfloweth with goodness and pleasure and sweet happiness.

And now all about us birdsong and the gentle rays of an evening
Sun.