What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
The peonies bloom with such sweet intent
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
It is hardly a choice, why do I cower
Blue delphiniums with fearless content
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
If I delay I’ll be in spring showers
Must I choose one blossom if I relent?
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
The bee can choose all, each it empowers
Roses and violets? I will not lament
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
Just pink or blue is shouted from towers
But lavender’s love is the freest scent
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
These meadows are solely each of ours
Lilacs in my hand I will not repent
What do I pluck in a field of flowers?
I can’t just sit in this grass for hours
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 8:58 PM UTC
The moon has stirred, in darkness glints give way
To deer who doze in haze of purple mist.
It's time for sleep and all its wake to stray,
I slip within the deepest peace I've kissed.
I hope to see the day of night, a dream,
A nocturne played with roaring harps and keys.
I dance along the river Past, upstream
Are birds who sing among the carps and bees.
From scene to scene I learn and scream and gawk
At angels, floating in my lilac hue,
And then I wake, in heat of warmth or shock
To find the deer are awake in wonderment too.
I ask are dreams prophetic? Thoughts divine?
Or needless as a moon beneath his kine?
Mar 20, 2019
Mar 20, 2019 at 8:56 PM UTC