insistence, full steam ahead
a train not stopping until
the metal has burnt a piece
of music, sweltering with
passion to fill the entire
parched world
with fragrant aqua fir
a willowy meandering stream
finailly pooling in a domed shape
of stillness, underwater fish
moving fins horizontally
in the resurgence of such summered
water atop the cooler rip tide rising
no time to seek another horn
for the song takes over
all green and garrulous things
as far as our eyes can see
gold grapes on vines freeze
witnessing the swinging
braiding the ringing
from blueing sea to
bloodied red sea
tapping, tense, then tender
the wicked sorcery
Kate Lamberg
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