Swing.
Flash.
Snap.
Life goes in swings and flashes and snaps,
in sights and sounds, and I, a kind of hopeless sap,
who can’t even bear to take a nap
for the things that might fall from his interest’s lap –
I’ll keep on watching and listening, perhaps,
wearing artist‘s, thinker‘s, and observer‘s caps
never reaching the end of life’s
Swings and flashes and snaps.
Letters to Home 