the notes of her song were never missing

                                                                       (1)
                                                          he'd been humming that tune
                                                          in a shadowed place, a shrouded room

                                                          she'd been singing in a cloistered corner
                                                          timid to reveal the thing that was real

                                                           the moon had been forgiving--flexing
                                                           with the melody of her hallowed tune

                                                           continuing to make a start
                                                           in the leaf strewn path--crooning

                                                            to the willowed world of waxing
                                                            beams, dreams, fluid organelles

                                                            as the truth unfolds in primary colors-
                                                            making sense to those who climb trees
                             (2)

looking out on a perch at the now calm waters
blessed to know the difference between what is

and what is not...dreamy neptune acquiesces ...
allowing the pomp of mar's direction to ignite

this gentle aquamarine night...
without a wind chill factor

helping to smoothe the wrinkles in lace
we place in a sunny alcove to breathe

it's just the little things that bring grace
that let all art and blessings be conceived

~kate lamberg (c) '17