THE USES OF BEAUTY

1

Father would take us to a slough
Behind the Mississippi.
There, among the cypress stumps
We'd fish our Sunday afternoons away.

Once as I sat with pole in hand
A splash broke loudly
In a nearby pool.

I turned to see the rippling
Water come alive as silver,
Rainbow-gleaming forms
Broke surface, then dove down
Again in streamlined arcs.

It seemed the Sun
Itself had broken up
And come down there!
Apollo's fish, I wonder now,
Swimming in their sacred pool?

I got my net and caught
Those flashing wonders
One by one, till
No more living Miracle
Disturbed that pool.

I don't remember
If we even fried them up.

2

I remember, too,
The first time
I saw Mountains.
Dad drove us
Through the Ozarks,
Down in Arkansas.

The highway wound,
Then suddenly
A scenic overlook
Of valley, hills and sky.
I felt my soul expanding,
And my eyes took in infinity!

After I'd looked awhile
My thoughts caught up,
As usual. My body tensed.
What do you do
With all that beauty?
My mind churned restlessly.

3

That childhood
Built a house
To keep out God

Beauty, Mirror
Of the Soul,
Is something
That such walled
Self-hate
Can't tolerate.

But God has ways
Of getting in.

Those walls
Removed, it's clear
We can't do anything
With Beauty—

Apollo's fish swim
For themselves,
For God's Delight
And ours.

Seeing is its own reward
That beckons us
To die in flashing pools
And mountain-ringed
Bowls of green,

And in That dying,
Live.

           

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