Fill me with words to paint a picture, serene, to honour such a perfection
Though my brushes lay at rest, my fingers numb, are ever eager
As I come to reflect upon a morning graced by the end of May
Naked is my virgin soul, though dressed by feathered wings of day.
Oh me, oh my, where be the hidden world of this day?
That I find myself alone on calling for nature’s encore by the bay
How does one begin to explain to absent friends and foes
A performance bestowed upon me by the will of heaven’s throne?
Splendid sky, caressed by your breath, within which captured beginnings rest
Though chilled to the core of self, I do not step aside
For one begs that this moment lingers in my heart forever
If time be not one’s enemy, I would not hesitate in thought.
A splash of divinity is sightly to my sleeping eyes
Woken to these startling subtleties of yet another life
Lights of a thousand life-dreamt fantasies entice my mind
Thus questions the silence, who restores me to this long-forgotten scene?
Trolls liaise wickedly with shadows beneath wooden legs
Broken shells off tortured tongues scatter along the river’s edge
Foolish fellows gather together beyond the play of nature’s ways
And so one moves, to shed a tear, knowing for this dying day.
Poetry by Linda Cull > copyright