At_Last

To a piper's nimble stroll at dawn Through shifting froth upon the beach Is all the more attention drawn By morning's subtle vision bleached. The twittered fading lofted voice

Descended, courts my straining gaze. She stays or fares with equal choice To feast or fly into the haze. And from this soul of balk, on stone implanted, Spirit limbs exhort appeal To bid of God to be enchanted Would these gnarled knees could kneel.

Would this knotted heart could feel. Though autumns add with silent chill Gelid strained, I Hold the sky. As aging leaves retreat this hill, So planets flee my grip awry. Monsters of the orb seen churning, Stars in spirals unrecanted, Spinning all. To all discerning It is I who lone stands planted. I Alone Stand planted?

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