Dance of the Damselfly
Across the moor
To Wicken Fen
Where brume swallows all
Into mire, of the life,
At river‘s end
But, begins
The serenades of dawn, unto sipid dew
And they gather into warmth
Upon and onto rising shines,
Of morning plume
She mist
Of the brittle heath
You may slip away
But, what does awaken, nymphs of lore
Poised to face this day
And in trust
Beauty charms the wind
Upon what was last
Of once a virgin wing
Over forenoon lust, a blush
Swoon those marsh lily eyes
And perch upon fragrance of Lady’s slipper
Thus, the dance romantic
Of the Fenland Damselfly
Round twiddle round and through
As Adler to the willow
A maiden’s flight in sapphire circles
Alluring danseur fly a ready
Hasten, beset to follow
Bestride, thus straddle oft
Atop the grain shallow reed
Softer cross the moss of peat to settle
To end nature's pretense
Sow and plant its seed
Here aloft the glisten, venery ends
Vixen drinks in insect life
Of instinct passions by danseur prey
A finale at river’s fen, resets the stage
Once again to the "Dance of the Damselfly"
Copyright © Michael Smith | Year Posted 2011
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