Will-O’-the-Wisp

the hills beckon me
today
their alluring blue contours intimate in me a grand emptiness.
Of calm winds and steady reams of transparent rain.
Of looking down on clouds and walking through them.
Of a verdant silent valley and dark flowing waters.
Of chiaroscuro games of trees and clouds and grass.
Of neo-natal pleasures and the Cicada's unforgiving cry.
Of cold nights in solitude and warm nights in companionship.
Of surreptitious glances and stolen stares.
Of unsaid words, choked responses and a withheld confession.
Of cautious tread and glancing strokes.
Of an impassive face; or misread, unread stray thoughts, betrayed in silence?
Of vibrant, violent frissons of feeling and unsullied sentiment.
Of original prospect and final sin.
Of silent days and silent flows of heart and mind;
I await Destiny.
And “as justice flows in an everlasting stream”,
I wait.
I wait…….

August-September 2003