Morning's Mural

The rain, it paints the sky in shades of gray,
as I sit to watch it drip from the drenched and aching
day. I notice the fallen leaves, as they sit beneath the dew
and lonesome lay. Above, I see the morning mist, as young
and as ancient as Spring, as it from the distant hills makes
way. Into my room, candle lit, my safe and glowing womb,
the dampened fair aroma of rain and midnight slain arrives
in a soft and sweet array. The morning, it paints in broadest
strokes, soaked in rain to the fallen leaves dismay. My eyes
trace the horizon, far and faint, while on the window's other
side the tears dancing, prancing play.
O morning filled with song,
scents and sense's other on display,
promise you will return,
promise me your song
will never fade away.

The Lady of Shallot II

Beyond the path and river stands,
A tower seen from Camelot.
Where breezes fly, and lilies sigh,
The lonely Island of Shallot.

A lady sits, a lady sings,
Upon the tower night and day.
Within its womb, upon her loom,
She spins a web in color’s gay.

She weaves the fields of flower’s fair,
The sun, the sky, and all that grows.
Knights and brides, the moon and tides,
She weaves what in her mirror shows.

She would out her window set her gaze-
But for whisper’s warning she cannot.
Cursed when born, she weeps forlorn;
The Lady of Shallot.

Across the fields and water calm,
A knight appears in armor full.
To Camelot, rides Lancelot,
From he her gaze she cannot pull.

Her weavings come at once undone,
As the mirror starts to shake.
‘The curse’ thinks she, ‘O destiny’,
‘My fate to die for beauty’s sake.’

Winter's Reply

O frozen winter, fierce and bold,
Why do you come to Fall destroy?
With iron will, you thrash and spill,
To silent Autumn’s winsome joy.

Your frost sewn quilt, in shades of gray,
Covers the last of Autumn’s flame.
Your dancing loom, spins beauty’s doom;
You dark and wanton life reclaim.

Silent winter, have you poem or song,
Have you words to me reply?
Speak of death, of frozen breath,
Barren winter, tell me why.

'Long years I’ve come- bold and sure,
Long years my winds have blown.
Through all of time, with verse and rhyme,
I’ve pondered every tree and stone.

Of all I’ve seen, of lifetimes passed,
None to Autumn’s doom compare.
Through endless years, my frozen tears,
Fall to beauty’s end declare.

Color’s fade, and life and time,
Alone I’m left to weep and mourn.
I this burden carry, to Autumn bury,
And lament alone in song forlorn.

A melody sad, with lyrics few;
'Don’t sorrow for madness mistake'.
I ache and yearn, the joyous return,
Of beauty for beauty’s sake.'

O solemn winter, it surely dies;
Autumn’s sacrifice, you see?
In death comes life, joy in strife,
In its fall it life sets free.

This departure selfless
Brings hope for joyous Spring.
In its death you’ll find, its choice designed,
To us life and beauty bring.

O gentle winter, wrought in sorrow’s song,
Forgive my senseless blame.
Raise your voice, in sweet rejoice,
For Spring will come to life reclaim.