red maple rippling in the morning wind

how often have i heard

your glinting sunsoft song? how have i grinned

to hear Calliope in every word?

spare me no musicmusing

for though i wonder here i have no shame

my unseen eye so often called confusing

is or seems in fact the very same

that bids me see the sound of bow and fiddle

as they play the paper and the pen

it brushes from my face the cowl of riddle

darkening the brows of blinder men

where they see menace in the midnight skies

and strangers in their lands

i see celestial lullabies

and pairs of yet unshaken hands

old dogma throwaway disguise

i know the truth of oversoul

my unborn children in anothers eyes

give glimpses which in part may make me whole

the dawning infant in the rosy rise

the tumbling toddler in the bumbling bee

what does it say of me

to hear whole ruby oceans in a tree?