In the oyster, the small pain
Of sand produces the pearl,
Glowing with secret glazes wrapped atwirl
Around the aching grain.
In the autumn, the death
Of a lone leaf leaves beauty ere it falls,
Glowing in crimson-gold until the breath
Of frost and sweet oblivion calls.
And on my marble catafalque I lie;
You wait in your ivory tower.
A scrap of verse expands to fill the sky,
A moment's joy is spun into an hour,
And a smile becomes the miracle of the ages
As we sing to one another from our cages.
-- Jean MacKay Jackson
[Tree of Life Poetry Circle][MENSA Poetry Page][Writers Page][Houston Progressive Index]