☆ships of yore

Signs of Spring

on the trailing edge of an icy winged age,
semele lies enleved in the foils of hades.
when shall we see her depart the departed?
when will i mark my recue from the shades?
not till signs of spring charge the skies,
not till summer gives voice to the air --
a dove outside my window this morning?
if only it were that kind of year!

jon awbrey,
in honor of his father, 11 march 2002
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2 Responses to ☆ships of yore

  1. In all honour to our fathers. Prayers and rememberance, this and every day. His hand also rocked thine cradle bed, stood guard gainst the outer world of harms and hurtings while yet preparing you to meet that very world. Was he who taught your understanding of the dove’s sweet song, the gentle sweep of life in the small and the large.

    His encapsulated walk through this world shed its own ripples touching his time and ours in ways beyond imagining. All honour. All honour.

    robert stearns
    in honour of fathers found and lost, 11 March 2012

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