Sunday, October 2, 2011

Midnight's Maestro


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 your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!