Spring's Flung
Tide of green refreshes vernal day,
Light within the heart invigors clay.
When the dewy morning leaves its light
Scattered moth-like among blooming hills,
When the clamoring avian mobs indict
Warring tribes of feathers, claws and bills,
When petals' waft perfumes nostril's gills,
Heart prepares the soul to welcome day.
Armies marching joyous, legs of six,
Rank and file, antennae of their race,
Tune their search for royals' daily fix,
While the lucid wings of fighters chase
Semenated draughts in vulvar space,
Prancing minions herd their lust for day.
Blackened soils in molded work for death
Wait, the spoils of wars in air to come;
Jaws of worms, in lively touch, by breath
Take their holy work, the rot to sum.
Each awaits to each his mortal drum:
Worms in earth reverse the thirst for day.
Seeds in dust prepare their jaunt for life,
Whether tendril, rhizome, root inters;
Germination finds its way through strife --
Muddy, desert, flaming, pecked --, refers
Air that crawlers hale from out their furs
Rootward, shroving budded fruit to day.
Spirit's fond when sap is furling green,
Equal night recurs that winnowed heart
Find its tender shadow's blossomed mean.
Dark our pater: heaven's living art
Lumes its presence outward, hallowed dart.
Thickened blood's as sweet as sapping day.
Lord Penumbra hides the fire unknown
By his crowning, capsuled heat its shade;
Soul the mirror, breath the flesh, the bone --
Question answering by nothing made.
Finding searches end, beginnings laid,
While our hate of hatred lights the day.
Copyright (C) 2012 William Mark Gabriel. All Rights Reserved.
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