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| Artist: Veronica Radelet, Abstract Landscape 13 |
At the mid-point of the year,
mid-summer,
mid-life,
in the night
the Moon rises
to show half her light.
The Sun will roll over in his bed
and breathe in his own heat
and rest easy
knowing that She
will wax into her fullness
in darkened plain sight.
For a time,
He need not
scorch nor burn
the pathways
across the earth
set down for lions
in tall, sharp grasses,
and He need not
boil the ocean
with the sting ray
and the eel;
the mountain tops
need not melt
and flood
into parched ravines
lined with curling leaves.
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| Artist: Sharon Cummings, Divine Solitude |
Instead, She will suffice,
and in softness
step lightly away from
Him, in quiet freedom
unveiled
and invite
the luna moth,
the plopping seal,
the snowy owl
to a midnight
of peace
and sighs,
as the sea
pulls up
the foaming
hem of her
dresses
to reveal
her tidal bed
of gleaming shells
and stranded weeds
until
song rises
into vapor
and the Sun must
have his way
once more,
battering
against
glinting
windows,
glaring at orange cranes
that swing
the stacked
objets d’effort
that have traveled
from another
hemisphere
of strife
and poisonous clouds.
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| Artist: Simon Kenny, On a Day Like Today, 2012 |
And then She
will cover her face
and weep
that He sees
the flecks
of glittering
sand in the
pavement
but never
sees Her,
or the man
on her curve,
fashioned from deep mares
of tranquility.
He, deaf and blind
from both
refusal
and preservation
of the righteous,
who tread along
lush rows,
blundering
standard bearers
who
trample
out vintages
of sleep
and dreams
to the end
of their days.
–Lizbeth Leigh
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| Artist: Nataera, Paris, France 2009 Original Landscape with Flowers |
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