How lonely the breeze this single moment.
How lovely the light touching greenest oaks
rising over angled rooftops, foment
of sparrows whirling through branches, their cloaks
brandishing through setting sun like gold blades
of bold, mythical fairies preparing
to attack black night, its unfolding shade
our clinging omen. I should be sharing
this with you, I whisper. All this should be
our time. How fragrant sweet honeysuckle
now swelling our air. How distant lovely
medley of lone mockingbird. My knuckles
press against the door, not wanting to step
inside to those rooms where once our hearts leapt.
Roger
May 16, 2011
