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For All the Good It Does

With a bottle of warm red wine
I lay roses, willows lay leaves
I broke a branch to chase off mice
the most of what mourning achieves
do we only ward off decay
if I'm generous, if I'm just
will it change the direction
of a single speck of dust
lost in cul-de-sacs of conscience
life is a test, living a task
so I shake my wine at shadows
while kneeling here now to ask

for all the good it does
for all the good it does
will it return to me what was

then like some monstrous rainbow
from the grey mist and pale moon
scaring bats from globe willows
a figure appeared from the gloom
with a halo of silver hair
a bloody staff and long black cloak
and with a wave of his gaunt hand
he seemed to hover as he spoke
"to calm a frightened house bird
with a blanket, cover its cage
and men soothe their uncertain hearts
shrouding them in wine as they age

for all the good it does
for all the good it does
it won't return to you what was

just remember this, life is rich
where love is, then sublimely so
while all death is unfortunate
my son, is it untimely, no
by clawing packed sod of the past
then heaven and hell, you'll find
is neither above nor below
but living ahead or behind"
then he was lifted through the fog
leaving me holding his staff
I smashed it on her stone and watched
the wine run down her epitaph

for all the good it does
for all the good it does
it won't return to me what was

(c)2002 Robert George

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