Still Water Prose Poems

Copyright @ 1989 by Arthur Garfunkel
ISBN 0-525-24795-5
Used by persmission of Author - All Rights Reserved

3

I am sorely waiting for my own applause to end
in the headset, as I walk the Val d'Isère. There, I just
discovered at the end of my performance at the
London show last week — were three Christian
hymns. I had missed these what with worry for the
Webb piece, at the time. Indeed, I had missed my
entire beloved Christmas in New York this year. (I
like to sing the carols to myself as I pass the church
at Fifth and Fifty-fifth.)

But I had laid provisions.

It is January 2, 1984. I am walking into Bourg.
The pass to Italia below Mont Blanc is behind me.
The Animals' Christmas finally fades.
Then Once in Royal David's City all those
English Christian children little copperfields of
praise—O Earth You are too wonderful for anyone
to see—I walk among the traffic, The First Noël and
swelled apart, the chambers of my heart, I am led
beside the waters and I start to sing O Come All Ye
Faithful We Live in Astonishing Splendor for Only a
Moment Anointed in Oil and We Toil with Our
Burning Glorious Bird-yearning Hearts!

Les Arcs, FranceJanuary 1984