Left to the Stage

 

Left to the Stage

 

Flying into the Square

well after the winterfylleth

has ceded to the greening snake

awakenings -

As blossoms of sweetness

yellow and red tulips

offering fertile pistils.

 

The walk to the cobblestone road

by way of the rainbow steps

and on to the Grand Old Dame of the Opera.

There is a stage with starlight there

to the left

where the dormouse feeds your head

with good vibes for the night

playing with the stars in delight.

 

The rabbits were all there

gathered sitting together

a fluffle in a ruffle

as one.

 

Standing tall

with a long sheet of crafted words

laid down with pace and beat –

Thoughts and verse

flying around in murmurations

of style and movement into the air.

 

There was a gentle poet

with a child on his mind

troubled or afraid – still

in the poem.

Oh, so good!

 

Poetry words work to calm

the soul

and silence

all ruckus away from the opening

beyond the fabled rabbit holes

of the rock-land labyrinth.

 

There were the songbirds

playing their strings

folks singing folk

and ballads of life

in humor; in love

and of the fire

within the cold stones

that keep away the sparks

of flight or fight

for eagles must take to the air

when there is survival

at stake.

 

The young doe left a story

of trepidations and trials

with her fawn so precocious

and audacious

a teen of four

all clichés applied

however, more than a charm

and with plenty of wit.

 

As with all good things

there is an end

when there is no audience left

all is done at the Stage

the lights dim

and the door closes.

 

Remember Mother

she owns all the seasons

and she has all her own reasons.