Woodstock ~ Vermont, by Chandler Anderson
Taste of Paradise
by Michael Escoubas
There is quiet joy in the brilliance
of this scene–
the poet revolves, in his mind, visions
of what Heaven may be like. For all
preached from all the pulpits which claim to know
what the next world may hold, how do they know–
how can they know,
with confidence, that anything better
than this exists? Only yesterday maples
bloomed amid his unsubdued elations.
Today, stalwart pines shine their dark-green boughs
between trees adorned
in orange and lemon leaves swaying gently
in the midday breeze. They fall to the ground,
as they will,
as seasons change, and signal change in us.
Where shall Paradise be found if not here?
The poet stands,
breathless, in the scented air of this autumn day.