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
ohhhh....yummy!!!! :)
ReplyDelete