Queen of Meadows

Queen of Meadows

 

    Chapeled in certainty,
    Bright as white gowns wondrous—
    That lace to a love,
    And her wise sacral heart
    Warm to new eyes
    Embraced to destiny pure.


    This face widows shimmered fawns—
    Taking all
    Speechless in that killing,
    To break from tender youth:
    Reborn as altars in her crescent beauty,
    Reached blind to lost flames
    Ancient in this wearied hart;
    And where has my music been?
    Sweet as it ever was.


    I begged to witness
    Her soft features feminine
    In songlines fastly stolen
    By strands of her dark amber locks
    That screamed of comet-chased stars—
    As she rose forever regal on that riverbed,
    And nature’s very streams shook at her hands:
    This matriarch of acoustic grace
    And she speed me to sounds
    Without use for unprophetic words cluttered—
    But I surrendered, yes, to her symphonies,
    Her deepest laws unbroken.


    Spirit stopped,
    As sense shivered
    Fallings and vertebraes!
    And I crashed upon her meadowland.
    Sweet as it ever was.


    Candle as a cradle,
    Fixed in her fingers—
    A figure soaring, beating passionate
    As a flickering flame alone
    Inside her awe-bent hands,
    And she knew my face angelical!