Let us find the morning sprites, the bells on their ankles are worth four rainbows if we could but catch one, they frolic often in the wells of music and the lap lap waves of shell-chorus shores Under the canopy of dogwood boughs, rippled hearts marry to prune judgement, cast aside to share the blood of plenty and prairie prose, mice titter in poems of swans, hatching plans to feather ride to majestic ponds of marble-moon light And kiss upon the gentle wings, subtle whispers of delicate dreams, red and borrowed in flower-stained ink, like little brittle petals draped over eyes too sore to soar and lonely to leave lips upon the crying night. shalome and roadpan � 2004 |
| Let us find the Morning Sprites |