Inspired from: “Mock Orange” by Louise Glück
The silken radiance of your toothed moon
Reaches gently through the leafy loins
Of my floral flank to linger amidst
The orange mist of a bloom gone too soon.
I feed lightly upon the seasons
But reach deep for safe sleep -
That I may forge with comfort,
To be fulfilled for all due course.
The hills are blessed.
Sheaves surrender to
Another age.
The tree grows to nest.
Your toothed moon’s crest
Lingers until the aube
To soothe with nocturnal grace -
To pose for daylight’s haste.
Your toothed moon rises
To shower eventide’s warmth
Upon The naked harvest
Of a Fool’s unrest -
To prae such fragrant waste.
Chaz
