No Peeking

Today I learned an important lesson twice
And for the thousandth time
Redux joy I cannot seem to fathom
Though I know the currency of ignorance is vice
In a cocoon of silk, (as they usually are)
I would sleep away the rime
Resisting white egrets and hope alike
Chasing the haunted patience of Catherine Parr

If something can come so right, left space
The crooked ring be made straight
Then all my sleepy turning solo flights
Are useless, and mysteries recanted leave a trace
Truth will out, thaw the frozen creek,
My willing it will not the buds entreat,

Nor make tea or lemon bread, will not fly kites,
We shall be what we shall be, whether or not I peek

The Other Side of the Ditchbank

On Ordination