Even the moon is full with it; last night
she hung expectant, just showing past half
through her pregnancy, a pale shimmered light
that peeped through the clouds like a wobbling calf

between the legs of its watchful mother.
Under every leaf, too, eggs lie in wait,
and the scent of released pollen smothers
even exhaust and asphalt past the gate.

My own soul feels weighted down too, but calm,
hanging on each moment as it creeps by
letting it pass without regret, knowing that soon
So soon, the soft, healing and fragrant balm
of peace will overshadow the dawn sky
and I will hear the whispers of its tune.

09 MAY 2003

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