Her fey beauty like the glowing moon
Lives in an aging vision that walks alone
In streams and in this life that came to seem
What is, the way it was, what should ever be
If I could sit in session with the wind
And call upon the outlines of that original vision
Have it before, unfolding grace, once more
I would say, "Slowly, linger with me awhile."
And a long gaze with time I should take
In all the fine array of what I should make
Of this gift, this beautiful friend who love herself
Did send singing out of the silent shrines of hope
"Wisdom, do you see? Anointed, in a form soft,
Flowing, woman. Friend, how can I friend to thee?"
And I should sit quiet and wait, a keen mind listening
And wait upon the long road of a languishing wave
Or as some mathematician tends upon the fortunes
Of a lonely comet rise and wane to the heavens
'Till midnight's last hour on western hill of sleep
I shall listen to the stillness of her breath, her sigh
Patient, upon a field of remembered expectation
Promise as this interview concludes, then dawn
This night wiser by one night, one still, one love
But that was a long time ago....