woodlands and hills are rolling
2010/05/16 in poems
woodlands and hills are rolling
by Tanner Brockwell
woodlands and hills are rolling
the airy trill of small pipes
the path worn but mossy
beams from high fall to these lower depths
and the lit spots of golden rays
with elementals even in play
the motes are fast or drifting
climb fantastically skyward
a trill a trill a certain thrill
the revels begin low in the pulse
and you can not help but step faster
faster in to the wood in to this world
an opening ahead I see shades and shapes
move entwine the music moving the figures
even as it is moving in my mind
there is an air so it is here
the day is cool the night is fine
we are on this changing point
to step into the glade
filled with figures robed or showing
fineries in knowing
know this a finger placed upon the lips
a hand that touches upon the hips
and the beat is inside as reveling
we dance the movement outside
and dancing makes the pulse rise
the encumbrance of the day released
in time that seems a racing
we are here in this timeless space
the stars have sparkle upon us
the ghostly galleon flies
this pace is with us quickening
your face in spectral shine
is flush and moist and beaming
take this thus a touch
the heartbeat throbs deep within
your features rosy hue
we’ve been out a dancing
a dancing we we we two
the others have slipped away
to other things beneath the night
we are here beneath the lights
and hold me here and close and tight
the spinning of the early dance
slows as you hold me closer
embrace as one and gently
kiss these lips these eager then
a kiss only a beginning
this is a start and only then
we shall wake beneath the dim dawn
that fills the sky with song
a host of voices herald this
a day of dance and song
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