An Epic: Morning

It seems---
It was only One or Three
Moments between Glancing
At brazen-red

Numbers
And the cloud-banks
Rolling unintentionally dazzling
By April-at-least

Standards
And what if
Kneeling in the back of the bas
Bach began playing

Who
Would know
Or who would even care
At least the

Clouds
Are Fast and that bit
Tangible and for me, at least,
Europe spreads

Itself
In its mosaic
Way of trademarking things
I understand

Then
And to whom shall it at last
Really matter Time Progresses
Like so many galloping

Armies
Approaching the Flower
Of some often-dreamed about
Enemy Capital

One
Little Flick and the
Moments return (loyally?)
Perhaps, so

Anyway,
The Bus jolts and my beloved Bach
Is thrown off his balance. His music discordant for a
Brief period and

I
Notice but find it surprisingly
Hard to stumble thru to the back
And there help

Him.