You are earth's first light,
the dawn of the world.
Warm-skinned patrician light,
the womb of the dawn.

You are first Autumn, Winter, Summer, Spring
When horses, mud-clod footed, tracked
'long twisted avenues of leaves
half carpeted in golden hues
half scarred by lines of good earth cracked.

When in mid-heaven, careless spent,
rose cool and breeze-puffed rising breath
which blended all to form the clouds
from which in time, lost flakes would fall
white, muted fools at Summers death.

You are eternity.
An endless figure eight.
Gallop the soft vibrating night air!
Destiny's master.
Larger than time.
Passenger of my soul,
in every stillest moment more alive.

In mid-day you shine still
a day and evening star
held and burning brightly.
Unadorned Mystic
spring-like crafter of words
Denimed Muse
your eyes bringing every living thing
to dance.

I look upon your image now
as sentenced desperate men would will
to dine 'least once as royalty
before their desperate dying.
But will not poetry.

Instead as heaves of air availing
life to body's pressing need
verses flow as deep exhaling
channeled through a music reed.

So, in this desperate hour 'least
Music accompanies the feast.