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!