Saturday, December 17, 2016

"Grand"

It stands outright, in regal sense, with loyalist proportions
It sings a note of recompense that's lost in the distortions
A sparkle there, is littered here, and, with it, goes the sky
Bright moon sends shadows round the scarp evoking winsome cry
To seize upon the windlass sheet and pull with all your might
No crush will craze the troubled heart from tears of sudden sight
Swing out upon that windlass' rope and sweep onto the fore
Reach far above the mast to sky, beyond the ocean's roar
You'll sway into the lunar light of pinnacle's repine
For bursting forth from shadow's depth will come the grand design

w

© 2012 whickwithy

Thursday, December 15, 2016

"The growing day"

From that time before the light
Until that time day triumphs night
I sit within my woods and watch
The glory grow in sylvan notch
I take the time to watch in wonder
Daylight build the world asunder
The sign the day is slowly coming
Subtle as a thrush's thrumming
To be sure, you'll watch too long
As, lovely as a thrush's song,
First momentous glimpse of light
Tolls the end of blackest night
Vaguest glance, the world is etched
No depth, no tint, just briefly sketched
And, then, the slightest silver slips
Upon the world to touch the tips
And sharpened edges come to fore
But still in gray from star to core
So slowly, all along the depth
The thief along the border crept
To steal away night's deepest black
He enters through a narrow crack
Behold, for now, the day is started
Coal and char have now departed
'Tis beginning of events
That leads to wondrous day, immense
As, trembling, now, the night relents
But, sun has still to cross the fence
Yet, now the world begins to form
In shades of gray, no colors warm
Whether it is spring or fall
No way the eye can tell at all
There is no color to the leaves
As, night to day, does slowly ease
And, then, a hint, the softest brush
The barest tint comes with a rush
Now lanes of light pass through the trees
Untouched, it taps me on the knees
As welcome as a morning breeze
True morning's here, at last, to please

w

© 2012 whickwithy