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11/07/11 - (1)
Concerto for Rain and Leaves
This Monday a.m.'s gray, gloomy, rain-laden cloud cover Has blackened Sunday morning's rollback of time. Dawn's fifty-degree darkness, Awash with drifting russet and yellow oak leaves, Has enveloped your house, in soothing sodden sounds, To whose cadences we've tuned our heartbeats, And, with a susurrant mantra, inundated our drowsing souls.
Though our spirits normally rise at this twilight hour, We can't seem to rouse them to seize the moment. The sky's bowing of November's violin concerto Mitigates against such an upheaval of the blood, Keeps us enfolded in the music of our sleeping flesh, Breathing each other's rising and falling dreams, Waiting for them to awaken us to our ageless love.
11/07/11 - (1)
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