It's been a well-worn Year since my iris has gone Whose dark-headed heightened grace Had tripleted heart's pace 5 And made the threatening waters Irradiate the lighter For her being something darker. She brought her blue-black laughter Like an aftereffect of thunder 10 When lightning rare as wonder Makes a landscape dark as murder By its too-much light, and, lighter, Touches earth and sky together. Now the garden, disused and mossed, 15 Grieves green, and I am lost As rain that runs away, As a thought that will not stay, Or childhood song that refuses to play. My iris in her wonted place, 20 Sensed through broken mist and lace, In tree-shadows lifts her face.- I see her here returned, Nor may I this wish unlearn As long as dew in dawn's-light burns; 25 Every shady curl of worth That my flower had leased from earth In sable richness reappears, Full of rampant ribbon-shapes, Taking all of root and stalk 30 To reach to light, and, silent, talk.
From the collection "The Timid Leaper"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.