jocund

"Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe
on the misty mountaintops."—William Shakespeare

a tree that flourishes in any weather,
whose blossoms are the banquets of the world,
whose branches host the congress of the feather-
clad birds so sweetly to her bosom hurled.

a river from ejaculating fountains
that aquifer the karst terrain with gold,
whose somersaults enliven verdant mountains,
whose hopes of oceanfare are manifold.

a man elated by the new day dawning,
whose shoulders broaden proudly at the wheel,
whose appetite for life is as the fawning
of hopes and dreams designed of regal steel.

an aria, whose lyrics are the answer
to every human longing—every pray'r,
whose melodies heal life's severest cancer,
whose joys abound, because true love is near.

© Copyright 2023 August 29
by Clyve A. Bowen♫