Passengers on passing craft
inhale the scented presences,
emanations of the ether,
wafting out across the park.
Under sky's penumbral cast
the trees loom eerily as thunder,
limbs lilt airily and shiver,
wind gusts off the starless river.
I can't put a name to these mauve
harbingers of southern spring,
frothed in blossom like chiffon,
lightly clad as debutantes,
though I wait to breathe their fragrance,
though they make me long to dance,
perfumed, partnered by the storm,
electric in the brooding dark…
Spring night, storm looming, trees in bloom
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106092501605
Свидетельство о публикации №106092501605
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