Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Now Drifts the Dirge of Dusk's Defeat...

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Now drifts the dirge of dusk’s defeat
Across the surge of silver sea
A madrigal, somnolent, sweet
Clenching, wrenching the heart of me

The winnowing of zephyr-zest
In subtle, season-serenade
Gathers diurnal hours to rest
Muting daylight’s dulcet aubade

Gladness and sadness intertwine
A raw and riveting requiem
Drips from the honeysuckle vine
Stripped of its hazy summer dream

Where is the Maestro of the throng
Composing anthems overhead
Of sun and star-spun moment-song
As my glass slipper turns to lead?

Yet, I am drawn into this trance
Of love-and-mercy-meted grace
Beneath dusk’s drifting dirge I dance
And reach to touch the Maestro’s face

© Janet Martin

1 comment:

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