Poem # 34 This lavender dream, so like an inverted bell; arriving stamen, story tell- your fragrance haunts me, a religion of later changes. O wandering rose garden which asks of my name again, you that have always been, The day-ward candle, a smiling white daffodil or soft Spring haze upon a blanket of star eyed apple flowers Dour currents collect these thoughts...angular projections are smoothed in the river, as this center lies above the alchemy of our restraint or question-This mystery or suggestion, the unfolding orb surrounded by Light; O tender dreaming muse, your wild flowers kiss my nights as song. Early Spring 1996 From The River of Swans Photograph with digital art 2010