Queen’s Garden Trail hints of crushed pearl luster
tonight, seems to rise past Bryce Canyon’s peaks
to and through Milky Way’s smoky glow—dust
from angels’ wings curling in clustered streaks
among light years of stars. If I told you
Astraeus cloaked himself in heavenly
remnants of chaff-crocheted clouds, flying to
earth by night—granting jeweled dreams to free
sleeping poets, inspire them with visions
for their verse—would you believe me? Would words
be enough to grant you faith? Would reason
require me to seek him out, then record
his Titan image on my iPhone, bring
it and wake you to review while I sing?
Roger Armbrust
June 2, 2013
