February 13, 2017 by phicks2012
Because it’s time again for subjecting my followers and casual victims to my poetic attempts, and because I just can’t seem to stop jotting down rhymes, once again I found myself scribbling. I was minding my own business, just waiting in my ancient conveyance under a tree for time to pass prior to an appointment, and — well, there was a marginally blank piece of paper just lying there. The next thing I knew I was making notes, and the verse below eventually emerged.
I plan to also publish it in our SCA newsletter, and hopefully, some will enjoy it.
“Sunbeams and Shadows”
The sunbeams dance across the mead where morning’s teardrops lie;
Upon the velvet blossoms greedy shadows swoop to die.
Beneath the reaching branches dusky fingers touch the sod,
And bright auroras crown the wind like coronets from God.
About the boles in shaded cool the violets are born,
And in the sunlight on the pool are fragrant lilies worn.
Beneath the sun-touched ripples there, in darkness, silver-scaled,
The shining minnow wends its way, by shadow’s mystery veiled.
Where sunlight touches, and reveals each bright and bouyant hue,
Beneath lie shadows on the weald, with memory passing through,
And nature paints upon the grass, within the woodland hall
A wondrous chiaroscuro there where sun and shadow fall.
[11 February, 2017]