Joy jam
E. Fleischman
In my tea is a fountain,
in the night is a glow,
in this town is a room where i often linger.
There’s a bed and a blanket
and a woodfire smell,
there’s a notebook and a guitar
and a hidden stash of dough.
There’s a fire. There’s the water. There’s an atmosphere,
a mushroom, a still pool with shady ripples,
an earthen mound, a broken tree.
There’s a pie on the table,
there’s a silence in the den,
there’s that moving van again.
Everyone comes and goes
and everyone sings along.
There’s a man. He is jolly.
There’s a woman building intently.
There’s an arc of electricity,
running waves along the shore,
invisible tides of rest and action
surge in and out of doors.
There’s no heaven but the linking
and no hell but disconnection.
There’s no sin but what hurts others
and no joy but what is true.
This is just a lilt for saving,
only measures of some grace,
This is love song and it’s nonsense
at the close of playground days.
Climb into the night’s dark carriage,
ride away with windows down,
catch the breezes of expansion,
come to me in smiling moonlight,
turn around'i’m there too.
And the hills sink into summer,
and our lives make a design;
there’s a web between our fingers
and a god’s breath in our mouths.
