Meadowsweet

Last night, it rained sharp

a thousand diamonds,

and now mist steeped, the earth

congregates around its pools of dawn.

We see ourselves in them --

we wax and wane, flowerfaced

in oak blossom and broom,

dewlit and bewitched. 

And honeyed almond clouds 

of meadowsweet, their watery cymes,

ponderous, yet with the countenance 

of so many stars, still lambent in their dell.

Here, in a half moon's halflight 

as it surrenders to the sun,

we do not test the fragility of joy,

or pit it against the human condition,

when we are beneath the suthering 

of a blackbird's wings, the arc of its song,

where, sometimes, we dare to forget. 
 

Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Meadow_Sweet_(Filipendula_ulmaria)_-_William_Catto_-_ABDAG016183.jpg