dim as moonbeams

the front yard’s turned to hunting grounds
the trees to concert hall
the fence must be for courtin’
some bright plumage to display

the seed’s enough to go around
there’s even some for squirrels
i hope it’s so come autumn;
i hope it’s so always

i did not recognize Him
for i figured he’d be Dark
as Sinister a creature 
as one could hope to meet

i never supposed quietness
nor one at home in White
a patient air about Him
and at His touch, a Peace 

fireflies dance as faeries ‘neath the trees
that freshly drip with rain after the storm
a summer comes thus, sudden - sneakily
when night is still, softened, silent, warm

so let our June’s bewitched enchant begin
with wings let us amid the lightning glide
for Summer, tolerate belief again
had i a faerie’s secret, here i’d hide

the copper stained our fingers 
from the pennies in our pockets
oh, the fragrances that come along with change

fractions of denominations 
are dividing ever smaller
‘til there’s little preciousness in what remains

while the thinnest sheets of silver 
drape the nearly worthless metal 
that our fathers, as commodity, exchanged

i have heard the cry of sorrow
swell as beauty suffocated - 
with no fingers raised, in protest voices raged 

remind me the unspoken name of that forgotten God
and does there any power remain that blindness can be cured
or are we left in wanderings and darknesses so broad
that we will reap the sufferings of what once held allure?

bury the controversy of our worship in the sand
then let a thousand years go by and Shepherds dig it up
to Marvel that we fell from grace with such an Iron Hand
let us then be the warning with which nursery rhymes are stocked

then let the children sing of us that ‘London Bridges Fall’
that there is something frightful in the shadows of the woods
that hungrily devours the unwatchful, one and all
Yes, there is something worse, my child, lurking out there than Wolves

it is with suddenness the changes come
the Moon Landing, Pompeii, Hiroshima
an innocence for doleful eyes exchanged
it is with suddenness the changes came

i have let slip unnumbered Days
as drained the shine from off the moon
we sit upon the cusp of change
i breathe them now, the airs of June

still wondering “where’d April go”
and “who will make the song the birds
leave silent as the winter snows,
when Daisy Field is deep interred?

and blade of grass is memory
and nighttime long (oh, rightly so)
when change has come and gone from things
and ‘crocus’ is a song we know

but shan’t recall the lyrics’ sound
for fear the daytime doth deceive?”
thank you, for reading this aloud,
it is in small things i believe

like honeysuckle finely bloomed
and daydream lost on yellow page
and fields left summer long alone
then into autumn brown to age

This then, must be where Aprils go
rolled with the summer into hay
as memory to ripen, slow
sweet fodder for our winter’s Day

that we might make the needed sound
to dismal winter dark relieve
Thank You for reading this Aloud
it is in small things i believe.