The White Dove
The white dove glides on patient winds
floating on soft scents of breathing blossoms
soaring
children's laughter
in fellowship with water and earth.
waiting
The white dove glides on the calm of heart
on unseen
beauty
on songs unsung, on love that stands alone
on
great cloud continents
inhaling the hush before the storm.
waiting
The white dove glides on immortal minstrels
jubilant
mornings crisp and golden,
silent
places of home lights gleaming on the still pool's rim
on memories of ancient wars.
waiting
The white dove glides on warm air
rising
from beacon fires that never go
out
angry minds swollen with vegetation
fallen
on vegetation, lingering waves
of remembered peace, prehistoric curses of helplessness from
earth-children,
weary and worn.
waiting
The white dove glides on hope
trailing
tomorrow's robes of lament
and
> thanksgiving.
Lost fathers, mothers, children
haunting the future of long purple seasons
to twilight's magic death.
waiting
Josephine Stone