So the thrush, she sings so softly In the ear-blood, says the moon, “She is where my love lingers, On the tender sprouts of June.” I am born, each note my coming From your trembling lips each day; I alone never tire, till consumed In oven’s heat, glazed birds of prey, So moon-rays sweeter, softer, glance Against the gloomy clouds each hour, Our only loss, her wet weeping, Sleeting, hailing, snow and rain; And I the witness, I the Robin, I The bird who transcends clay, I alone With you are fleeing, rustling tops Of trees our fate; touch my Back you flying feathers, rise till Fall, you fabled wings, cry out, “Fall is now within us, nestled In the feathers of our being.” So Anchor or I tear you loose, and this Become another squawking, backward Falling Goose. But let that not be; For I alone shall go with you, Sleep with you the endless night; I will hold your heart forever, black The rose on our lapel. Rest in white Beneath the sprouting leaves, Side by side in our living room We sat and watched lightening, snow Fall on the drive and television near The end of our life… I will sleep With you forever, you my reward, My back pay; to come is golden, but for now Our life is firm, filled, and swollen, Pregnant from the month of May, Now is cell-sweet nutra-heaven, Gushing Blood sharing the life Of our poor souls; And you shall search The coils within me, Trace touch fingers find our way; Two trees twisting in two beings, Till solitude creates two shells, Tall branches, intertwined will show How much we loved, we touched, We knew. Don V Standeford
Posted on: Sun, 16 Mar 2014 10:24:23 +0000
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