for a poet in a city (ii)

what joy to hold another golden
plume, forevermore,
of dust that keeps the vernal gust
enamored of his chore

yet bittersweet to only meet
the rose from which it soared,
with thanks unto her absence
four-and-ninety years before

the seasons thence securely fenced
her graceful bloom away,
in sacred woods of sisterhood
that keep storm-winds at bay

and so he bows in kind to her
who winsomely eludes;
a lowly air to kiss the glow
between their solitudes

a mist and not a tempest
overlays the zephyr’s word,
in prayer that she forgive his song
its wanting to be heard

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for a poet in a city (i)

alike the soils allowing seeds
to rise unto the stars,
pretend you’ll let this drifter spend
tonight between your bars

i humbly found you underground
before today was through,
where into throngs of barren songs
they tried to bury you

but sending two resplendent plumes
of golden-dusted breeze,
[these stanzas seek to say] you sparked
a certain soul to sneeze

and should these beaded couplets fall
beneath their lofty worth,
my petrichor regret would pour
asunder from the earth

but don’t coerce yourself to nurse
these saplings wrought from clay;
this boy could fall in love another
hundred times today