Euterpe, who knows the why of when?
only you… in the silent spaces…
and even then…
you toy with those of us awaiting,
perhaps not ever gracing audience
to any fool enough to shun
the darker shadow shades of dun.
Myself I thought a formal invitation
assuming your arrival to be hand in hand
with rainbow hues and pealing chimes
golden bands and silver linings
or at very least
the lapping rhythms on sand
of wind and water
unbinding, intertwining, unwinding.
I was not want to view laments
as planks that shaped the bow
of barque approaching…
although it came as no surprise
when gentle mourning dove refrain,
it’s plaintive song reproaching me
for holding out ’til brighter fair
announced your heart tune hidden there…
softly rocking mists of mystery
giving way eventually
to the barest perception of humming vibrations
those sweet tiny snippets
of old expectations
suspended above the chorus of sorrows
today’s rushing current
the tide of tomorrow.