Sunday, August 14, 2005

For my Gypsy friends

Gypsy Night

I will leave the purring embers
to the nuzzling lover's lost care,
and join those more sensibly abed --
preparing for tomorrow's journey.

I wander dimly by moongift
to a haven not far away,
cocoon myself in old Lupo cloak
and leap into a waiting, cushioned bush.

Then I drift to dreams suspended
as one can only rightly be,
on the gentle branches of memories
and the lullaby of stream tinkled breeze.

Faintly, faintly I hear again
those scarf-stroked fire-shadow drums
and bright prancing heart-plucked mandolins
that tell me of gypsy spirit's yearning blood.

Come with me, my sons and daughters
to hidden camp at deer-trail cross,
and dare to listen -- never speaking
to dark eyes and vagabonds of the soul.

2 Comments:

At 4:46 AM, Blogger Heather Blakey said...

this really helps to create the mood of the camp faucon. I enjoyed this.

 
At 2:36 AM, Blogger Gail Kavanagh said...

Ah, you have the spirit in you, Faucon. The tribe may well be reluctant to let you go.

 

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