W.F. Lantry

Desert Wind

What now? The air is filling with sweet sounds
and I renounce my laboured pain. Some words
unheard til now, consume me. Can the wind
unaided, carry shimmerings like this:
a voice, or many voices glistening
as if vibrations mimicked watered silk?

Composite patterns here consume sunlight;
or moss rose petals flourishing one day,
then folding, but reflect the slanting rays-
yet I have seen, at evening, some blooms
which yield their own light, as if a flame
could burn within their sepals, and send out

consuming interwoven waves of light
much like commingled echoes of a voice
or voices I can hear almost without
constructing words or sentences. My mind
gives up its struggle, harmonized by this
strange madness of reflective patterned sound.