monday morning man
The following is a poem my son Wesley wrote earlier this year. I think it is a beautiful piece and wanted to share it with you.
Monday Morning Man
The man next door might seem to be a very standard person,
Someone, if whom he disappeared, the world no more would worsen,
But if you get to know him and you listen all you can,
You'll learn the hidden knowledge of the Monday Morning Man.
I asked him once why Mondays should be held in high regard,
And he answered with poetic skill, like that of any bard,
"As the cycle of the universe comes to a close on Sunday,
It's only right that all should resurrect itself on Monday.
A day of new beginnings and of things about to start,
What ended on a Sunday then on Monday shall depart."
Enigmatically he talks of what will stop and what's began,
But to most he's just a simple, normal, mundane morning man.
He likes to tend his garden, and one day I saw him there
Walking through the rows of herbs and trimming them with care.
I looked up at the sky which seemed to be one massive cloud.
"It looks as though the rain'll come," I said to him aloud.
And then he smiled a vulpine smile, the mark of someone clever,
And said, "My lad, it never rains on Monday mornings, ever.
At least as long as I'm around, for after that, who knows?"
At that he turned back to his plants and realigned a rose.
A Monday was, in fact, the day on which the man was born,
And as it happened Monday would be, too, a day to mourn.
But just before he went away, he used his final breath:
"Hello again to Monday, even if it means my death:
The journey which for nobody can ever be ignored."
And when his eyes were closed for good, the organ played a chord,
The sound of which resounded out while all the while it poured
As though the clouds had suddenly been fractured by a sword.
As well I know he had no formal training at a college,
Yet everything he did spoke of some great clandestine knowledge.
It may be he had insight into some great cosmic plan,
But all we know for sure is he's our Monday Morning Man.
2 comments:
Oh my gosh, Deb! Wesley's poem is really incredible. How old is he again? Where did he acquire such depth at what I'm sure is a young age? It's really, really beautifully written...
Shari
that is really touching...he has a lot of talent.... and vocabulary! Be proud to have such a sensitive and expressive son!
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