The Thinking Poet


When Things Go Sweetly

After the judge’s dismissal, Rumpole sits alone,

Purring like a cat over cream.

"Sometimes a case goes sweetly", he smiles,

Pauses a while and adds: "It’s instinct".

Sometimes a game goes sweetly.

Before even leaving the hand there is certainty.

The ball glides surely to its mark,

Drawn by a magic gossamer thread.

And as swallows swoop over still water after flies

I note the same assurance.

I see it as a cat makes consummate pounce

Or a pike a perfect snap.

A poem can go sweetly,

Springing like a mountain stream from unpromising rock

To bubble over cataracts as it goes.

Words seem to flow before their truth is known.

Jesus, I think, when he spoke of truth and bearing burdens lightly

Had in mind making life go sweetly

By spinning for us guiding, gossamer threads

That set our tread as surely as swallows on the wing.