Woodland Waltz

The lengthy languish
is lost
to the passion tide
that succumbs to the most roguish
of waves.
The Knave of the mayflies
impiously pilfers
the rumors of spring
for ballast.
Through the ambient
fundament of the weaveworld
he climbs,
susceptible to the unbearable.
Gazing on high
the ekistics of love, life.

Revel nudely
the infalling.

Surreal sighs echo
from the unfrequented niches;
nocturnal panoramas
that dance only, jointly
held apparitions.

Euterpe plays
Terpsichore directs,
Thalia enters.
As the numen cuts in
the chord is struck.