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

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?