Iridian Flight

I found the Roses of Sharon shrubs growing by the ravine.
Mixing with branches of fuchsia blossoms and showy cerise tongues,
they are an array of profusions with velvety white petals
and deep throats of scarlet’s fiery reds painted by pollen’s gold…

They are prolific like wild flowers scattered in the zinnia meadows.
This is where I seen glorious tiger lilies roaring in orange bloom,
dancing piously with the clay stones and gravel rock beds.
I discovered rail road ties had been placed without their tracks
along the wooden fence posts tangled with barbed wire…

I picked alyssum bouquets with thoughts of your essence;
Beckoning desirous want I smelled their sweet perfume.
Caressing the lakeshores of your beatitude
I knelt to taste the succulent purple clover petals.
It was the month of May when I thought about you,
as I was immersing my thoughts to lavender hues of eventide…

It was here at the tranquility of the ravine
with each receding wave motioning to the windfall of tomorrow,
that I whispered to the flutterance of the lepidopteran wings
making wishes zagging upon the seasoning zephyrs of springtime-
Where the pastures were growing fertile
with wild grasses and white daises surrounded by forget-me-nots…
~~~
The fields are over grown now, as years continue to pass.
It is an eternity where the ravine and Roses of Sharon meet.
They blossom their romantic profusions every season.
Salvaged by the wild turkey and the glorious peacocks.
Distant roosters cackle every morning just before dawn.
But throughout the sable skies of phasing moons
the peacocks are always stately aware
with their incandescent eyes guarding the territory…

I hear them throughout the hands of darkness.
They seem to be the gate keepers to disturbances.
Alerting their hen flocks and neighbors nearby
to the wild boars approaching in the shadows murk;
Their tusks merely burrowing the hedges for grubs.
While the coyotes leave their scent markings looking for food
the owl visits my weeping willow out side my bedroom window.

And we slumber without notice to the calling peacocks
upon stilling dreams and quite stars.
Yet I awake because they remind me of you when they crow;
Or maybe it is myself that I hear in them…reminding me-
Those echoing moans emitting wildly as flagrant sensualities erutpt;
Voices of lovers climactic essences…releasing…our primordial songs.
And I spread myself with iridian flight to find you in your dreams….

(Written: July 13th, 2010 5:18 a/m)
© Poetess Victoria L. McColley
SUNDANCE Road Trip June/July 2010