Crisp winter evenings,
my December lullabies,
little songs, fluorescent hums,
one slow wink in these rainy nights.
She moves across the room,
across the hills, across my eyes,
long mountain gait in her stride:
Wind smooth and then a smile,
she bounces, she glides...
She walks away behind the seven sisters,
shining white upon the frozen groves,
shines throughout these winter dreams of Eden...
And should I touch her,
dear Christ, that I should hold her,
caress these lights,
this one kiss of the soul...
It is the moon. The lands beacon out of darkness.
And the deep blue Scandinavian ocean sky
that so blankets this long gaze,
this grace upon the hours,
opens her seas to the silence in our wishes,
and therein dies the clamor, therein births the song.
Dominions and Seraphim,
great Angels descending,
fleet into the fountains upon the wing hurried winds,
pools and waterfalls of this season thawing,
fleet into my heart, my life, my flesh.
The scent of dancers in their bath,
steam laden air married to the odors
of broken orange skins, of clove and nettle,
hyssop and rose.....
Moon rise, moon passing.....
And the moonlight slides
her elegant fingers across this century’s
shriek and epitaph...sshhh, patience children...
the jade and garnet of our dreams
meets in her sojourn within all our lives.
Sssshhh, winter blesses with silence,
with chant and song,
and the darkness comes alive...
and perhaps someday we’ll be together,
perhaps someday....
