Voices beckon ‘neath pale moonshine,
past hours of deep slumber and mist.
I gaze as water-lilies caress bold waters,
lauding mere sight with ache and sigh  —
There’s a song that births inside my head,
begs measure with breath o’ starry prairie.

Voices beckon round hour of ruddy morn,
strip doubt o’ cleanse with streaks of light.
I gaze as saucy chaffinch wakes and sings,
surfeit of evermore sweetened things —
There’s a song that births inside my head,
lends pleasure as berries o’ ripe and red.

 

 

Photo credits: marcobusoni – DeviantArt

Posted on Sunday Mini-Challenge @ Real Toads

& posted on the Poetry Pantry @ Poets United