Sweet Prince
In the cold
brisk
gray
morning
of a winter's
dawning
Small
rustle of
parchment
leaves
scattered
on a barren
slate floor
Stefan at play
Pretending
the prey
is a vanquished
mouse
Gentle teasing
scratches
on the steely
gray floor
The young
highwayman
Warm creamy
white
cloak
and mask
at play
Sweet Stefan
Prince of
mischief
in the cold
gray
light
of a
winter's
day
Angels Trumpets
A triumphant sound of
music
In the sensual softness of an
autumnal harvest
Golden leaves floating
gently to the earthy floor
Strains of grand opera
in the cool expectant air
Sitting here in the garden
of my neglect, I am
renewed, among-
Pink roses in their dying grace
Amidst the thorny brambles
of my wild place
Bougainvillea vines
scattering their purple flakes
On the earthy mound, come
whispers of a gentle
breeze in my hair
The radiant joy of autumnal
colors
Strains of opera, drifting
into the garden
And Angels Trumpets
swaying rythmically above me
In seasonal salute to the
pleasure of falling leaves
Golden offerings to
nature's cyclical renewal