If I Could
If I could, I’d play for you a moon-hummed lullaby,
the sound of rivers and moss green springing,
the tune of bee waltzes on white-bloomed clouds,
and you would hear the poetry of stars,
like flowers drifting from the sky–
not red-raged bursts,
or dolorous willow whispers, the anguished cries
of mourners left behind, and mother’s tears–instead
the wind would carry rose petals, petrichor,
and daffodil laughter, echoing as
each dawn awakened rosy-cheeked
with blue-eyed innocence
and birdsong would soar, never bullets.
I didn’t get a chance to post my poem from the Oracle yesterday, but I’ve revised it, and perhaps it’s more appropriate today on the first day of spring.