Second Innocence

Second innocence long after the first,
the flutter of ash, the wings of a dove,
wisdom, when experience is counted
both for what it was and for what it wasn't

when most is said and done, we know little
and perhaps mean less, so lightly we wear
the garb of our ignorance and spritely
dance what is left of the gleam in our eyes

wisdom, yes, paste of an exotic taste
that comes to seem familiar in the hold
of mouth and mind, the places we resort
to gain the company of our small selves

wisdom's innocence finds resignation
is the last least best boast of being, this