June 21, 2006

Midsummer, Briefly

Walking among the roses
at dawn this morning,
a waning midsummer moon
dancing overhead in the
high clear blue of the early hours,
I glimpsed briefly a
great and shining truth,
knew it for something fey
and incandescent, something
liminal and perhaps transforming,
but my truth did not linger
in the white and gold
and green of this hidden
garden in the village —
it spread its wings and
flew off into the sunrise
in a soft cloud of stippled
birds and drifting song,
leaving behind a memory
of fragrance, the sound of
wind bells and rustling greenery,
the lingering impression
of great wings in flight.