When I taste the fruit of sweet defeat

When I taste the fruit of sweet defeat,

That aches the mind and stones the heart,

Turns the wind north with such effect,

Seizes on difference that drives the mind apart:

A simple game of pitch and toss,

Can change with one wild chance,

Turn certain win into dreadful loss,

I can walk away without a second glance:

Thunder strikes and there is lightening all around,

Hailstones pour from clouds of black and low,

Leaving a trace of winter on the ground,

But there is yet so much for me to know:

I see in this evening Heaven’s power,

I live each minute and never count the hour.