gossamer is the breath
falling in heated touches
this first monday morning
of autumn's calling
sunrise tipped trees
smile back at the horizon
a reflection of dawn
translucid drops
roll off the curls
of leaves yearning
to quench their thirst
no rain comes
from cloudless skies
just the cries of hawks
as they cincture above
appreciating the warmth
sheathed in this day
The Poet knows his light burns eternal
Has dealt the world-- Love, his handy Trump card
Youth struck by love we age Oh! infernal
In bloom the chase the glory of the bard
When we are naught but glories of our past
And the plump gourds all but mould and wither
Small black mirrors in their eye’s we last
And the final light we seek go thither
And the rose petals demur Times request,
The laurels we earned, the longings all fade
Taught skin, ambition lieth down at Ages behest
And cincture of fact is lost long-loves gaze
New charms bloom sun n ’Nature to tear asunder
As we prepare for the dark deep slumber
In the kingdom of the Waters
She sits enthroned on its womb
Flanked by the silver facet Atlantic-Indiana
As the barking tides wrestle her marble feet
In the court of the Tropics
She is robed in green foliage of ancient savannah
Adorned with pearls of arid sands,
With ivory mountain and cincture of rift
In the mythic boarder of the Equator
She rests at the footstool of the fierce sun
Comforted by cloud’s tears
And caressed by solemn winds
In the royal neighborhood of Continents
She locks horn with Europe
In the witness of Asia
And her offspring Madagascar
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