From Windmill Hill   Money done right — who can say no? I mean, the view from here: first God made Monadnock, faraway blue floating on evening green,   a sapphire set in jade, the big fat book of beauty — but money made it a view, money cut a thousand trees, said, There, look,   away beyond the Connecticut: Beauty. Money well spent, says me. Money’s just a dream of what it would be like to do   something, make something, be something. The lust for money is ugly, everyone knows that — we know it in our bones, in the dust   of what didn’t work, fell short, was supposed to deliver and didn’t — innocence betrayed and costing far too much. These maples, though —   that mountain, those clouds — what if money made God, and God made this solstice, set this scene for us to be worthy of beauty, and we obeyed?     © Michael Fleming Westminster West, Vermont June 2011