In the Whispering Night

In the Whispering Night by Michael R. Burch for George King In the whispering night, when the stars bend low till the hills ignite to a shining flame, when a shower of meteors streaks the sky, and the lilies sigh in their beds, for shame, we must steal our souls, as they once were stolen, and gather our vigor, and all our intent. We must heave our bodies to some violent ocean and laugh as they shatter, and never repent. We must dance in the darkness as stars dance before us, soar, SOAR! through the night on a butterfly's breeze: blown high, upward-yearning, twin spirits returning to the world of resplendence from which we were seized. Published in Songs of Innocence and Romantics Quarterly. This is a poem I wrote for my favorite college English teacher, George King.