Dawn Roams Naked
She Rises to Lilies & Dew
Dawn, as woman, rises before daybreak
to dance among the lilies, to amass
dew-diamonds-consecrate this day and pass
her blessings among tender flora. Ache
as she does for innocence, she must make
her rounds in twilight, leading that huge brass
chariot which is Helios’ charge. Grass
and clover and lilies rise for her sake,
to bless her day as she blesses all. She
is the fey Queen, coy maiden, even more
than legend, yet mere as mist. Who can see
what is there in only a moment, or for
ever in Zephyr’s breath? Our aubade she
echoes in a morning glory’s bloom—no, more.
David M Pitchford
9 April 2008
Filed under: Petrarchan Sonnet, Xenoneoclassicist Poetry, creative souls, ekphrasis, esoteric, fantasy, myth, national poetry month, nude, poem, poems, poems about paintings, poetry, poetry revolution, sex, sonnet, spirituality
