Some mornings,
When doves are done complaining
And finches had their fill,
Larks take over the air waves.
They sing their crystal arias
While swallows swoop over vineyards,
When the breeze is gentle,
And the day isn’t yet scorching.
Two larks jam across tree tops,
Start a chord, a riff, an hymn,
And a short melancholy tune
Above the din of mopeds late for work.
My heart leaps when a lark sings.
It is a gift, a kiss of sweetness now,
And a recall of long easy summers
When sunny days went on forever.
A lark’s song is a savored aroma, eyes closed;
The little golden cloud cheering at sunrise;
The soft, tender, fleeting
Shade of pink caught in a girl’s blush.
When larks let rip a carefree fugue,
It’s a dance, a soft shoe number,
A Fred Astaire glide with a grin,
And a Ginger sweep of satin.
Photo: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/5/53/Crested_lark_singing.jpg
Dear Emmy,
Lovely to read, Delightful to visualize through your elegant words. I enjoyed the video as well.
Shalom,
Rochelle
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Rochelle. You are always so encouraging. I am glad you enjoyed the little excursion into my world. and the video! I had fun looking for the grin, slide and sweep!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love those old movies, particularly the once with music and dance.
LikeLike
As corny as some are, the music and dance always lift the spirit. I always feel upbeat after watching them.
LikeLike
Lovely poem. I especially enjoyed the last four lines.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you oglach. Your visit and comment mean a lot.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re very welcome.
LikeLike
Lovely, lovely, lovely!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, thank you, thank you!! 😉
LikeLike
No one does the wonders of nature like you do, Em.
But when I watched the video I forgot all the praise I planned to heap on your marvellous poem.
Because no one walks down stairs like Fred!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Isn’t that the truth! The man is poetry in motion ( to steal somebody’s words… Who said that?), absolutely enchanting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Johhny Tillotson , in a 50s song !!! I danced to that one ! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Good evening, darlin’ girl,
Home is the hunter, back from the hill
And the sailor safe from the sea…
Yes, the traveler is back from his trip
And that traveler would be me… 🙂
Love the scenarios you present with words, Emm, and the colors and sounds you attach to them. Could almost close my eyes and be there. G’nite ! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person