A summer in the morning sun
Like lace upon my skin,
Sweeping o'er my rocking chair
and let your light come in.
And when the yellow, gold and brown
left me faint upon the floor,
I caught my breath just long enough
to see you passing through the door.
How soft and warm and long you stayed
in grace and sanctity!
Retreating, blushing, hid your face;
I'm sure you left here for the lee
Now nihilists on bending knee
give homage to a seeded wind
and whispers from the sparrow egg
say that you're back again.
- les blough, 1992
More poetry by Les Blough
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