Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Invisible Minstrels




Oft for these wee minstrels I yearn
From winter’s lusty fire
Tonight the lyricists return
To strum the hidden lyre
On lush and sultry summer-stage
A resonant vibration
Of choristers tune brush and sage
And sundry vegetation

In silver notes their anthems swell
Above the raven spire
Surely the starlit pinnacle
Exalts this humble choir
An obscure throng of summer-song
A comely dispensation
Of unfeigned praise; madrigal raised
To Author of creation

Oft for these wee minstrels I yearn
From winter’s frozen bowers
For harmony of green-leaf fern
And cricket-murmured hours
Tonight their salutation spills
In pure, fervent devotion
The cricket-song of summer fills
Deep midnight’s lambent ocean

© Janet Martin

Yes, they are back!

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