TO A LADY

The Lady broods too much, methinks, 
as Ever is Love's span of wings, 
the breath, the sound of the harp's strings. 

Those who are gone, they do rejoice, 
merrily wearing gowns of light, 
crossing rainbows, stars delight.

Let us now wear this dark and grey November 
as we would a soft blanket: one befitting 
when occupied with knitting, stitching... 

(see this day's entry here)

Comments

[Ólöf]

Indeed, does a lady either breed or brood?
Yes! Let's breed wild dreams like dragons and give them wings to fly... and brood as we draw wonders on the macbook screen...

[Suzanne]

So let us wear this dark November cloak
and brood a bit until
in lighter days the cuckoos breed again.