Dreams of MistsBetwixt the spring and summer Beltaine creeps
Into mortal time and place. For now
Sacred time holds reign. The mundane sleeps
As walls between what is and isn't bow
Before the silent turning of the years
Then is now, and shimmering future days
Wash away our clinging dross and fears.
Our dusty pilgrim's road blooms ways
Into eternal mists of hope and life
While single trees turn forest, then alone
Stretch through the worlds and days of daily strife
And yield us peace, more prized than any stone.
Though winter-born, I wish to you this May
That love may come to roost, and with you stay.
copyright E Glas Durboraw, May 1, 2002 - Chattanooga