I wait for you
where the sun sleeps
and the moon laughs
at the night stars
trying
to out do each other.
In the soft sunlight
of the morning
when tulips waken
from winter sleep.
In the glistening dew
that bathes their faces
and with fantasies
blushes their cheeks.
In the living drift
of pollen and bloom
pronouncing
the season of creation,
I wait for you.
With spotted-winged monarchs
drunk like gods on nectar
making rounds
garden to garden.
With the ebony twilight
tucking in the sun
from a day of summer work,
prompting the night jasmine
to let out its charm,
until, the sun yawns
stretching itself out
across the broad sky-
I wait for you.
By golden fields
brindled in cocks of hay
for four-legged dwellers
where it is home.
By the trelliswork
sloping along the lane
and towards the stream,
the leaves rust and gold
soon to shrivel and die.
By the gathered vintage
marvelous to the eyes
and joyous in the stomping,
but pricking to the mind,
I wait for you.
Beneath the naked trees,
the bare fields,
the sulking sun
who barely whispers hello.
Beneath the smile
the frown that grows
with each chilling frost
and each swing of snow.
Beneath the quilts
pied with tulips and hyacinths
made with a mother's love
though warm-
I am cold-
On the porch
of far away places,
in the window
of imagination,
at the door
opening
to the soul-
to go with you
through the seasons
of dreams.
~~
Copyright 2010 Francis Don Daniels.
All Rights Reserved.
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