Love Song for Mona

Loosen the fillet, go where water silvers

The green air;

Throw to the icy heart of a leafed pool

Your dark hair.

Smite it with music, scourge it with softness,

Cleave it with proud

Line after stinging line of darkness;

Shower a cloud

Of insolent beauty. Why should it, knowing

All that is known

Forever of bird-breast, star, and tapering leaf,

Forever be stone?-

Giving, for so much given, only the cool

Impertinent stare

Of silver? Loosen the fillet, go to the pool

With your shadowy hair.

C. E. Burklund