This New England

By New York poet Christopher Foss

Morning Glory

Physical memory rings true
Even now with slow-dimming
Mind and sight and the sloughing
Off of undeniable touchstones -
The held moment of a kiss
Or dawn's crescendo warming old bones
Interred in darkened peace;
That vital current will not cease
To inflame the brain this late hour
To take communion with the Morning Glory
Or to hear its chime as a sonorous chant -
Gently insistent, spoiling attempts to recant
Life's animus, a youthful humming,
Joyous even before the final release.

 Tags  Christopher Foss

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