1764

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.

I am the Empress of Darkness
I conjure coal and obsidian
from smoke-curled skies
I am bent on destruction
of the inner deaths
                       that exist
creeping up my spine
I am a raging inner momentum
                          of swirling clouds
holding the black seas at bay
I wish to conjure darkness
                       in order to bring light
first clearing out
all that has claimed me
chase it away from the
fog that has coated
                     my bones and organs
Bring it on, I say
Filter right out of me
    Demise: Hear me clear
You are no longer welcome
in the echoed canyons of this heart
I throw you into
the reverse quilt of stars
and you fall like a blanket
upon the night's clear breath
I am the Empress of Light
and I claim myself back
I take back the cloak
of what was always mine
Hear my cry
Let your eyes mist over in
familiar newness
Cower in your own shadow
for it is my time to shine

Flashes of long lost decadence
Clothed in shabby cloaks of misdemeanor.
Windswept nostalgia, stayed and sleeved
By the breeze that haunts a forests tree.

Leave it be, the wind said to me.
Let the leaves be leaves,  
Let the trees be trees,
For their roots run deep,
Far deeper than you may perceive.

The Summer Pledge

Come walk with me this fragrant summer day,
We’ll wind our way to where the water gleams,
Where gentle winds in wistful willows play
And love’s cup holds the elixir of our dreams.

We’ll weave paths through a milky thistle maze
And amble on an alder avenue,
Then watch the sun’s bronze blaze raise
Through river mist his rainbow retinue.

And when his shafts of silken light will lance
The lofty boughs that court mid morning’s haze,
He’ll smile to see his sunbeams’ dappled dance
On joyful faces gilded by his rays.

Close by the honeysuckle crested hedge,
Where bitter blackthorn’s vicious fingers thread,
I’ll turn to read your eyes and hear your pledge
Windward whispered on lips of cherry red.

And as the blithe and languid meadow grass
With swaying grace plays host to consummation,
we’ll know before this fateful day  shall pass
Our lives entwined will build on love’s foundation.