In retrospect, one sees in different light

the treasures of the medieval schools

not antiquated baubles; rather jewels

polished in the very way the authors write.

It’s not too late, today, to read with care

(no essays due reciting what you’re told)

to meet the writer, read the words of old

to cross the centuries, to be really there.

I regret not my haste to graduate.

Priests; eagerly we saw a world to save,

post-war, a work to last beyond the grave.

I deemed the world of action, potentate.

But God, the endless good, the Mystery

grants eternity, to mend one’s history.