By H.T.R. WILLIAMS
Lash of paradox, when I was often told
there's nothing better than to swim wisdom's pool.
In those cold depths is something greater than gold,
but the long tongue of short knowledge is the fool's
noose, and the bird's song a hand on my shoulder.
''You're older,'' it says.''There's no fool like an old
lad.'' My careless hand empty, this grandy heart
somehow goes to gather nothing now to show
but a live eel of memory, to carry
over the slap of years, into wisdom's pool.
- H.T.R. Williams lives and writes in Dunedin. Read
more of his work at www.htrwilliams.com
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