Duet.
When words mean
no more, as sentences stand to the side
in haunting wait,
allowing young moon, head in low mist
of kissing cloudlets
to re-bound the nightingale\'s drenching
of air\'s placid streams
with bird-sound, I stand sans language
to gratefully hear.
I will remember
this lakeside songster\'s silver sheened
trills echoing
before disappearing in gray speargrass
of heavenly night,
about which I now dare to write, adorn
the distant greening
of deep, darkling shadow in meaningful
phrases, describe
such creamy white, pinned-to-the-sky
magic of brilliant
diamond star-brooches bent on joining
this listening scene
as water begins its act of singing duets
with freshening breeze.