She walks in beauty like spring sunlight,

bestowing sad smiles on all she sees

and those who receive forget to grieve

for cruel remembrance of things past

but bathe in her light as in a clear stream

passing through kinder seasons than this

where she pauses to plant a kiss on faces

wet with tears, an imprint sure to outlast

misery or pain and inspire us to live again

as we will, without such fear or suspicion

that leads but to prejudice and taking bigots

at their word, depending on our place in

this sorry world

She walks in grace like a summer dawn

cajoling the wind to read aloud

the poetry of tree, flower, bird, insect,

beast and passing cloud till the Philistine

can but cock an ear though he or she  

unlikely to concede a measure of pleasure

in anything to which the senses thrill

or else the world tear away temporality’s

shabby mask and expose a penchant

for spirituality’s kinder, gentler ways

in which the chorus joins in daily praise

where ears care to listen and hearts,

like petals, open

She walks in magnificence, like autumn,

the observer left breathless in her wake

for striking colours she chooses to wear,

ribbons of red and gold in hair a shade

of amber never seen before though many

a sky and landscape its splendours

shared with those who thought to look

(and Earth Mother an open book)

yet passing even a painter’s passion by

or the poet’s inner eye should it

have cause but to blink, let alone close,

the panting mind fall short of where

its inspiration goes

Come winter, see her make fools of us all,

world on edge in anticipation of her smile