Final version

Until circles merge
until waves form music
the draw of the moon
will speak verses to the calm breeze.

The air hangs with promise,
droplets dissipate in
autumnal crispness.
While Summer fades

memories bind us close.
Restored by winter’s repose,
with magic in the tongue,
morning rays assure new birth.

The future cuts the chord.
We fly free.


From the exercise

The draw of the moon
spoke verses to the calm breeze;
air hung with promise.

magic on the tongue;
droplets dissipate until
the waves form music.

Summer fades until
its circles merge to make
autumnal crispness

while memories bind us close
the future cuts the chord; we fly free

Restored by winter’s repose
morning rays assure new birth