PROVIDENCE

The light alone moves this dawn.
Spring breathes softly;
by her own beauty spellbound,
she smiles into the lake.

Seafoam skies peer through the 
fragrant floral fretwork,
sequins of turquoise light linger
upon my dark locks.

Alas, I am unworthy of this crown,
great goddess! Your riches
enslave my senses, yet, Silence is
the season of my soul.

The irises look askance upon me,
these deities that distil  
rainbows from rain, conjure rarest
perfumes from dark dirt.

Could they construe my disquiet?
Such is inwrought in my
spirit; my steps it hinders, my pale
fingers causes to falter.

Words ride the wind with butterflies
and bees. My parchment
shall remain bare, for they now seek
vernal vellums and hues.

Notes fly from my quill, ere I could
tether them to staves.
They would merge with the spume,
melodise with the waves.

Yet, I smile thro' my tears, for they go
to serve the worthiest Scribe
and Melodist. Gaea would limn her own
blooming this glorious morn.

The Muses attend her, as with Chloris
she allies. In divine verse
and tunes shall I revel, in worship of 
her find joyful redemption.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image source: kaifineart.com

Artist: John William Godward