of her, who sings the shy nocturne on the edge of the pier, ancient wind gathers the aura
of her, dressed in ether lace over the fabric of cloud patterns
of her, dipping stars of ache in luminous water, their soft lilies opening with a miracle of waves


notes fall at the feet of a quiet mountain


in threads, as fibers of moon jute spelled to gentle silk

in phials of spring incense, spilling on bleak soil


‘have you heard the pavane of cottonwood trees?’, someone asks, cradling a sea-bird wounded in the tempest


such hours flow from simple reverence

dust, earth, dew scars on flowers are what sustains the harmony when tear-shaped minutes are voids scattered on shoulders

from tales of everything vulnerable, suites of the infinite against the dread of screaming world


to witness such beauty is to carry fragile leaves to canto of life, to anchor the ship from an alien century in a harbor of understanding

‘each nuance of melody, each transition here and beyond’, she answers and turns around


tears are raindrops, raindrops that write confessions on sand

and this is the way heart is the spread of air music in the sphere of breathless lands


2 thoughts on “Virginia

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