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.
2013.annjohnsonmurphree
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