Soothing summer, soon…

June 6, 2007

This lovely poem by Barbara Lundquist appeared on one of the listservs I subscribe to. I find it stunningly charming… hope you do too.

Let us go then

Let us go then, to a place where there are rays of golden happiness
That shine down upon tender, dewy skin,
Covered in light mahogany and coffee spots of darkened pigmentation.
Where worn kakis [sic] with tattered ends and faded tees are painted
With great skill with lush emerald stains
And round cheeks are scarlet red
except for the delicate shavings of dead skin.
A place where a tranquil river welcomes all who wish to plunge
into its sparkling depths
The crisp and invigorating flow, filled with life and nourishment.

Here the sun is overhead for hours, constantly heating the air,
Filling the woods with a worldly light.
With the melody of birds calling for a mate
and the water rushing over smoothed stones
Creating a natural symphony of endless beauty.

The mythical beasts of fairy tales come to life, reborn in many forms
Resurrected by the sounds of the symphony.

There’s the frog prince croaking for a fair maiden not to change him back
As he will lose his dreams, the hope that keeps him alive
And the lady of the lake living in the form of a graceful carp,
Sings a silent sonata of peace.

Now the magic of this place takes hold and time halts
Bowing to the majesty this moment.

Soon the sun starts to drift from its position in the center of sky
towards the horizon
While sky begins to paint a scene of balls of cotton, rose and lilac,
And a great sphere of flame disappears into the tree covered knolls.

The lady of the night rises from her slumber and her subjects
begin the nocturnal ball.

These subjects clothed in many shades of gold and honey
shoot across the sky
While the planets draped in sapphire and ruby watch the production
thousand of years old
And those who are bound to the earth gaze with wonder
Their eyes and mind captivated by the shower of stars.

In the background the melody begins to change,
the tempo of the day winding down.
With the river still gurgling like an infant,
Content with the simple joys of staring at its tiny tendril like finger.
The chorus beings with green knights singing their sad love song
And the crackling and hissing of the bonfire in front of us,
the percussion of the camp,
Warming our small insignificant bodies.

Here we shall drink the russet elixir of the night in this magical kingdom
With its aroma permeating the essence of our souls.

Now we rest, so “Goodnight my friend” for the dawn of tomorrow
comes fast as a thief.

And soon this will be a memory of a summer long gone too.

— Barbara Lundquist


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