A NOCTURNAL FUGUE
I love those times/ when the body has not completely left/ what embraced it last.---Luisa A. Igloria, “Dear season of hesitant but clearing light,” Via Negativa
By sunrise, the strain on the highland flute
has reached a decrescendo ending a sky dance:
the moon fades, the sun rises, a tale told
often enough it has spawned its own legend:
they are lovers who must in the morning part
as a besotted night must leave its rising day
like one whose body cannot completely leave
what embraced it last. Like love lost and found.
What magic these celestial wonders have
over the awestruck and fevered lovers
vanishes like the lambent moonglow at sunrise,
when the moon glimmers into its dying pallor,
its lingering light languidly laving the river
stream that ends around the dreamer’s bend.
A ravenous sun eats all that evening splendour
sworn to by all hearts that have loved and lost.
--–Albert B. Casuga
Collaborative Poetry Prompt: “Dear season of hesitant but clearing light,” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 04-20-11