Under the Arches of Heaven

Gentle kisses of morning

Lovingly blown from the fleeting night

Alighting softly, unexpectedly

On the blushing cheek of the rose

Tracing the soft white throat

Of the quivering lily

The heavy dew, transformed

To a thousand precious jewels

Dripping from the verdant gowns

Of the ladies of the glade

The rising day is cool as silk

Trails a frozen hand across

The shivering back of the night

Reaches out, caresses

A chalice of seduction

The damp earth is fragrant

Imbued with the seeds of life

With the luscious scent of blossoms

An apple green, emerald bright, garden

A rich explosion of colour

A tempting, rainbow masquerade

A tapestry of snow bird dreams

Bathed in the warm blanket of sunrise

The sun has spilt a sea of rose gold

That trickles in mercurial abandon

Leaving in its gentle, rolling path

The dust of the heavens

This is the nursery of antiquity

The crucible of creation

Under the arches of heaven

And the new day trembles

Prostrate and humbled

In the throne room of the dawn

© Ann Bagnall and AnnieB222.wordpress.com, 2014.