Thursday, September 14, 2006

Morningsong

by Nathan Hays



I come again to the sylvan glade that
Latent sense awakens

From aerie perch and rooted self
Unfolds my fiat

Effortless gestures enrich my vision
Commanding life

I draw returning breezes to refresh and fulfill
Misting my face

I leap into buoyant aerosols to glide
Among the dryads

Fairy moths and parasols fervently coruscate
About my arms

I descend to a cool shade along a stream
To lay upon the moss where

Whispering gurgles and pixie dances
Lull me to sleep.

A tiny hand upon my cheek stirs me,
My child is watching over.





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