blue

when the storms break change comes upon the land

new rivers rise each clearing a fresh course

having pushed up from a surprising source

that is a matter we can understand

in books and pictures we might think it grand

a fact of nature each fool would endorse

as being nothing more than goodly force

and proof that death is but a gentle hand

we let things happen and they do not slip

past our control into some roaring drain

as blank-faced masses wait to see things pass

value remains beyond each rise or dip

that has been measured or been written plain

and we see clearly through transparent glass