Gift

In this morning’s bewildered dejection
without any prior notice, I heard
such a devil-may-care drifter’s song in the air
that I knew it made sense, though absurd.

It came as a gift from God
dropping straight out of the sky,
without need to believe or desire to receive,
with a what and a where, but no why.

Then everywhere, everyone smiling!
That’s at least how it seemed to me –
and it could be the case that the look on their face
marked a major epiphany.

So I rang you at once just to tell you
how this round world deserves our applause,
carried through space in an egg-and-spoon race –
keep holding the spoon, dear First Cause

or there’ll be an Almighty pause.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them.