by Pavel Chichikov
Angels golden haired
Swaying in a wind?
November and young oaks
Leaves and lissome limbs
Gold a summer’s age
But not the mane of youth,
Metaphor that’s waged
Against the naked truth
Yet since we will praise
Forever when unseasoned
Infinities of days,
Then praise beyond all reason
Praise by metaphor
That will become a fact:
Leaves that never fall
And never daylight lack
Praise because the reach
Of wisdom is not far
Unless perception teach
Both sight and metaphor
So let the tall trees sway
Pray always
Pray by night and day
And praise
Pavel's Websites are at The Poetry of Pavel Chichikov and Catholic Images by Pavel Chichikov
