The Poet…for Bella Akhmadulina
Joan McNerney

It is the white hour
between deep night
soft dawn.

She found no sleep but
her eyes blazed back at
stars this night.

Walking by riverside
soft murmuring
    long poems
        intricate exquisite
            shaped themselves
                gliding across her mind.

Faint indistinct---like
a love known long ago.
Quiet passion, gentle smooth.
Feathery clouds in a blue sky.

Haze of hours, half-forgotten
melon moons amid sunflowers.
This is a kind of dream
in a way, enchanted.
Half in and out of this world.

Another sun will rise bringing
more golden memories.
She will stay waiting for
all the miracles of morning.

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