Silently, the dew descends
From ethereal fingertip
Starlight frosts infinite strands
Round one lone opal ship
Within the blue-still emptiness
A surging hymn is stirred
It moves the soul to solemn bliss
Without one uttered word
The fetter of despondent toil
Dissolves into the mist
The urgency of futile spoil
Now ceases to exist
Beneath the tempo of the moon
And midnight’s silhouette
Like honey trickling from a spoon
Falls heaven’s minuet
Seraphic intonations wrought
By night’s celestial hand
No maestro on earth's stage has taught
An orchestra so grand
Of willow wisp and star-brushed sigh
Or murmur of the deep
A somnolent soliloquy
To lull the world to sleep
Janet Martin
Last night was such a night...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!