I.

South wind knits chorale preludes
while dripping away stalwart Adam’s snow
piled in the corners of a bound self,
letting rising waters to murmur and swell
tuberous plants to root
a new season of light.

II.

Summer fugue comes first as a speechless bond,
a new kind of presence
that trembles with the intense organ chords
and spreads a gentle smile over the endless blooming rose fence,
which fetches a deep contrapunctus sigh
in meeting a bounteous morning pallet colors
sweaty in the disperse heat of a noon high
sun, which rainbow’s broken rays notes spread over the line of waterfalls.

III.
Summer fugue strays walking the daydream, but it’s not lost:
In a delirium of moves, it swims from wave to wave
surrendering to the ocean zephyr sways
floating just to crush with the weedy sea-shells on the shore
and catches the star-fish breath after a long dive,
to run back on bear-feet through thorns and prickles,
to lay on fresh grass dew
where eyes meld a remote poem reflection
recited by the sublime gild night sun and flickering lightening bugs.

THE END

(First published on February, 25, 2012)

 

 

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