Written in 2009
I awake,
to trills of the
maroon breasted songbird,
to rosy fingers of Dawn,
painting blazing golden embers
across her vast canvas.
I rejoice,
in the whimsical dance
of sunbeams.
In the mild taste of
spring
And the ambrosial fragrance of
dewdrops in early morn.
I live,
for cumulus clouds of castle walls,
for chimes in E minor,
for the aroma of
lilacs and hyacinths.
I sleep,
to the lustrous glow of the moon,
to the howling wind,
and the dying song of the nightingale.
To the hypnotic sway of branches,
lulling a soft lullaby,
as I slowly
fall
into
a
deep
slumber.
Tranquility.