Comfort and Content
Day after day the waning of spring,
Burst into summer with blossoming;
The lark is singing wild with glee,
High on a branch of a hawthorn tree;
And daisies fair with the virgin rose,
Deck field and hedge with summer snows.
A cold white moon in a midnight sky,
Paints leaves silver as the winds pass by;
With the happy whisper of phantom feet,
Swirling like dust down the street.
The stars hang thick in the cherry tree,
The west wind scents the briny sea;
Scarlet roses set heavy with dew,
Bring the night I have captured for you.
See the dance of swaying flowers,
As they kiss the wind through midnight hours;
For in the night there is no ear,
Though larkspur stretch and try to hear.
Who calls this vagrant heart in me,
To tread the night in odyssey
My heart is tuned to the night and sings,
Of passion I feel for all these things;
My mind is content and needs no words,
For illusions playing on their minor chords;
Or torn desires and longings deep,
That put an anxious mind to sleep.
What a better gift for a life well spent,
Than the rewards of comfort and content.
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