Thursday, January 6, 2011

Tiny Singer

she could dance
but instead she flies . . .
she has no measure
of earth's gravity
or understanding that the moon follows a path
and is prone to eclipse . . .
and the dearth of knowledge
of the death of time
keeps the sparkle in her face,
like the newness of a burgeoning leaf,
fresh and tender with expectation. . .

She sings for me,
her little Russian rhyme;
and yet those shining eyes cloud-up just a bit
when I turn away . . .
for I am burdened by chores
and duties
which control my desires,
although my heart longs
to contemplate this small shining child. . .
observe her sing
and fly like an angel
outside of the night
and into the spaces where heaven
meets the humble soil
of which her flesh is made . . .

Her burnished, honey colored ringlets
bob hopefully
whenever my tired eyes
meet those sanguine orbs
riding in her
innocent  and delighted face . . .
and a colorful Russian nursery rhyme
curls out of her happy mouth,
like the warm breeze
of Spring
that greets the cold and distant Winter . . .

and though this tiny singer
must end her sweet song and 
stop her twinkling feet,
the stars and melodies that
follow her like butterflies
enter my heart by a wide road,
and leading me straight
to the golden harmony of eternal youth,
brightens my soul
and lightens my wearisome burdens. . .


The child in the poem is real . . . she sings to me every day - whenever she sees me . . . but she isn't the only child who gives me the gift of joy, peace, and love which are all balms against crabby old age . . .  

Frank Harper's latest album . . . gorgeous, soothing - healing:

a faint memory -
the incense of home
is a dream
that carries you to your hope
in perfect peace. . .
like arms wrapped around a child,
lifting you in your sleep. . .
like a wisp of a dream,
perfection in calm. . .
like a song in a tear,
an angel's gaze
clear as crystal. . .
like a leap of faith . . .
with such, you can fly
on the quiet winds
of this music . . .
Album removed . . . no longer exists!
created with Frank Harper's
spiritual love, gentle soul,
and touched by
an angel's heart beat . . .


Van Syla said...

Who do angels choose to sing for ?
I have my idea about that and you might find the answer in this lovely poem.
The pictures are so beautiful, as always.
Thank you Barb !

Wolfsong said...

Thank YOU Syl, for your lovely comment . . . it touched my heart and made me smile . . .