Waiting

I wrote I didn’t see the moonlight,

Her honey voice doesn’t come,

Fountain tongue from which

Sprung the earth’s fertile sound.

I wait, her beauty in

Every other thing, flower tangles

In my hair, from the admixture,

Thunders’ sound sprung.

Rain comes down as I remain,

From moon’s throne, in a web

Spun, sure entangled, becomes

Magic – earths virile rhythm.

Stirred, song of weather, fom her

Source, arise, like dawn,

Morning weather, conjures

Within me love’s form, raining:

As I wait, and her voice doesn’t

Come, come, from above, above,

Her moonlight I desire, closer

Bound – as I wait, wait, on love, love.