Of Goddess and Green (A Second of Roses and Angels)

A Second of Roses and Angels

From the rose red of sky, 

comes a loving grace of wind. 

A pattering of feet ensue, 

the girl beneath the rungs of life give to the grass, 

the flowers of pedals all too sleepy to weep. 

Her slender fingers wriggle, 

birds sing in response. 

A chorus if ever, 

the winds die never.

Her hair spindles and sways, 

the coloring of mornings day stays. 

She floats currents adrift, 

down into what clouds are of sift. 

The mists approach and tangle, 

the remaining cower in her coming. 

Down she is, 

her feet flatten the grasses unto which she lays.