Poem: Ice Oaks Day Dusk Night

 

 

Ice Oaks Day Dusk Night

 

flashy branches stream whorls of sun.

a surreal, hypnotic thrill, surely,

and yet not kind,

amok with ravenous gossamers

which soon succumb to purple nightshade--

 

those crepuscular filigrees of twigs  

laden with wine-tinged tears,

haunted, fated, frozen in their sparkle,

wistful and serpentine,

these mantles half-remembered

to the raucous glory of the day,

desperate now

for a mere molecule of star.

 

and yet

could heaven be a pomegranate moon?

in hover, gorged on delight, 

above the medusan mantle of the canopy?

 

could it be

 

an oasis bathed in the spectral,

celebrations of tapestried glints,

so many pinpricks, illimitable yet soft,

joyful in their midnight?

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5/28/24...