Monday, August 15, 2022

Shadow-cups...

In shadow-cups, you catch the sun...

Poured through a sieve of leaves, 

you run
A sense of distant sea-song through
Treetops...

.... and larkspur blush and blue...



In shadow-cups, you catch the sun
Poured through a sieve of leaves, you run
A sense of distant sea-song through
Treetops and larkspur blush and blue

You laugh like a child free of care
You scratch sometimes and pull our hair
In periwinkle-twinkled glints
You steal our breath (and youth methinks)

With age-old form you fill fresh frames
With a storm of echoes and names
Some baby-new, some old, some gone
You fold your wings at dusk; at dawn

…you are a first-time butterfly
Shedding night’s dark cocoon of sky
You flit from Mercy’s ‘let there be’
And here you are, no entrance fee…

…you perch on pedestals wind-blown
As soft as tufts of thistle-down
You bob across the misty dell
And kiss each glist’ning flower belle

They blush beneath your plush caress
Forgetting that your fine finesse
Will wean the petal from its prime
And keen Her to the touch of time

Where, everywhere She looks she sees
A world caught between destinies
And suddenly she wants to run
And drain shadow-cups full of sun

Through meadows wild with Queen Ann’s lace
And golden rod, she wants to chase
Your essence ere you drip away
And drain the Cup of Summer's Day

© Janet Martin

…you are a first-time butterfly




And suddenly she wants to run
And drain shadow-cups full of sun...



2 comments:

I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!