Summer’s host rides with the ills of silence,
a hunched weeping muse collects her tears
like the frequent pebbles that span a beach.
In the dead fields of weathered corn
she rests well under dapple skies of canvas,
in prayer she weeps for songs of hope
from the Gods and ghosts that glisten the night.
The evening hoaxer rustles laggardly
in the illusory eye of her sleep,
the wise musings of nomadic wildlife
guardians to the languisher of dreams.
The night carried the idle day away
she could hear the day slowly dwindling
the resurrected whispers of his words
enchanting the woodlands with his return.
M. J. Duggan
Poetry of MJ Duggan
TAKEN FROM ‘UNDERWORLD’ ( a collection of sixteen poems)
Daily Quote: Nothing I say can explain to you Divine Love
Yet all of creation cannot seem to stop talking about it.
- Rumi
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