The Exsiccation Melody

the slowest small drifts out in dark hues of gray
under the dim fog of dust
there mixed up into a deep heaviness vein
and walloping din to remind us

the scenic arrays with such latent appeal
with white peaks and the blue Sound of lore
torpid, lethargic, bunumbed, and repose
sitting under the burden, await

sprouting out of a dimple in its bubblesome scape
three frail sober spires adorn
a trepid prosaic beside such renown
the only resplendent One to fix our gazes upon

and there standing bold admidst the splendorious scene
Her guard of invariable knights
the strong, the few, the wonderful
who stand and face their Queen; we stand to face our Queen, when...

scattered on valley, on slope, and plateau
lit by a great hidden Friend
the earliest motions of new gathered strength
a fresh equanimity rises, and then

we breathe the air that now blows through
the crannies strewn across our ville
to freshen up our stagnant caves
at long last we can emerge; our spirits can emerge

though it dampened us
our every going there and back
to forth and to the sea
the budded Blossom dries crust atop suppressed benignity

the sweetest chirp on wing and sea
invigorates mirth, merriment, and glee
blitheness, laughter, wit, and hope
bright Jocularity...

lit on me, lit on me, lit on me!