Pretermitted Insufflation

Here the grain, the grass, the field;

There the woods, fence half concealed.

Here more than can be possessed.

Hidden treasure rare revealed.

The grains’ gold seems over run --

Buttery beams, melting sun.

Caught in freshest summer breeze

Is the place where I have come

To pluck watercress from a creek,

Amid seedy mustard and green leek.

Feathering my life like a nest.

Listening to time hardly speak.

At the Age of 8 or 9

I remember a time

when I was a lad

and all of my life

was wonderfully sad.

I had no friends,

all I knew were some ghosts

who would haunt my night.

I waited upon them

during the twilight.

I remember a time

when I was a lad

and all of my life

was excitingly sad.

Despite no friends

there were baseball cards

and motion picture shows,

while at home I had

records and radios.

I had some friends.