We hurried through the winter’s night
To Emily, in Amherst,
an homage to Miss Dickinson:
“Hope is the thing with feathers…”
Our spirits flew through galaxies,
to the huntsman, Orion-
We chased love and myth with him
across the night sky.
You dipped your head to kiss me,
slipped Saturn’s ring upon my finger;
Unspoken vows upon your breath,
celestial wedding band.
Aurora Borealis,
stained glass of luminescence-
swayed gently to our humble hymn;
lyrics known to God.
Perhaps the Belle of Amherst
smiled upon our poets' hearts?
“Called Back”
etched on her gravestone;
so we were,
and here we are…
|
