Slow Smoke/Hang Me among Your Winds
HANG ME AMONG YOUR WINDS
Hang me among your winds, O God, Above the tremulous stars,Like a harp of quivering silver strings, Showering, as it swings, Its tuneful bars Of eerie music on the earth.
Play over me, God, Your cosmic melodies: The gusty overture for Spring's Caprice and wayward April's mirth; The sensuous serenade Of summer, languid in the alder glade; The wistful symphonies Of Autumn; and Winter's rhapsodies Among the drifted dunes— Her lullabies and her torrential tunesMoody with wild cadenzas, with fitful stress And poignant soundlessness.
Touch me, O God, with but a gesture— And let each finger sweep Over my strings until they leap With life, and rain Their silver chimes upon the plain, In harmonies of far celestial spaces, Of high and holy places.