The Vast Hour

All essences of sweetness from the white
Warm day go up in vapor, when the dark
Comes down. Ascends the tune of meadow-lark,
Ascends the noon-time smell of grass, when night
Takes sunlight from the world, and gives it ease.
Mysterious wings have brushed the air; and light
Float all the ghosts of sense and sound and sight;
The silent hive is echoing the bees.
So stir my thoughts at this slow, solemn time.
Now only is there certainty for me
When all the day's distilled and understood.
Now light meets darkness: now my tendrils climb
In this vast hour, up the living tree,
Where gloom foregathers, and the stern winds brood.

by Genevieve Taggard

Comments (3)

I love this one Danny.... But for some reason its akward... idk y but i mean its great gotta talk to you bout this one.. Its heart felt and well.... REAL so great
Very well said Dan. Correct me if I get it wrong, but I think you are saying true victims of violence are shattered and left wondering how could this event, such as rape, happen to me. It casts a shroud over the victim's entire life that is hard to shake off.
wow.....wonderful poem...kept me wanderin and left me wandering.....i wonder what u didn't choose...? **KoNi**