Now the petals flaunt, the white, crimson, the fire of Scarlet Storm.
Now waves the Chestnuts blooms, scenting so heavily the air.
Hawthorn gold, winks and glints and gleems in ebullient glee.
At dawn birds and badgers wake and, shimmering coldly, the world wakes me.
From the tented chrysalis I creep, heart fast and spirits soaring.
Vivid slashes of red and gold, paint me,
My joy is secure in this short breath of time between in and exhalation.
I walk to the lake and shiver, at waters cold and immanence.
I slowly walk down to the still dark, leaden looking mere.
The dive is loud as a shriek in a cathedral.
On my back, now I float and see the sky as day’s hues spread and glow. Brighter and more vivid, all now glows and scents fight for attention.
In these moments I rule all and am enfolded with lake and tree and stone.
Dripping I climb back to my normality, briefly and
Secretly one of the Lords of creation.
Copyright 2012 Edmund
Preston
