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 from 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 © Linda Cull

 

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