Sweetmeat Awakenings…

Lit by a summer moon of dark

blue, floating white Ophelia’s go

by as the river murmurs across

the mossy rocks leaving misty

foggy rings, stars coursing across

the sky while the woodlands sing.


In the wine colored skies of day

with clouds like dust of fine gold,

pulled into the night a vapory

breeze over a violet forest frigid

and cold.


Near the edge of nowhere lies,

calm black waters framed with

emerald moss, the vision

breathless, while the silence that

mounts in the soul seems endless.


Like rivers through the distance

of time of sweetmeat awakenings,

waiting in soft pools twirling in the

scented twilight.






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