Sunday morn, clicking on KLRE
my heart falls deep within Parish-Alvars’
harp concerto, floating strings’ reverie
enfolded by violins, sudden stars
enveloping cosmos of my closed eyes,
tingling of my waking skin waking all,
and suddenly my senses realize
what my soul already knows: this long fall
through passionate serenity must be
memory: our making love in heaven
before body-mind flight to gravity
and solid earth’s captivity. Even
Icarus rising recalled this, like me,
before he plunged, smiling, into the sea.
Roger Armbrust
August 15, 2010
