Sitting in Michael's Lap
Never in silence long, for you
Were full of
Or, one question, rather,
Asked too much --
And I, smiling and secret,
Equipped with only two answers:
And one other, less precarious,
That I chose to supply ...
Below us, the earth was yielding,
In purple hue and gold that waved
Brightly, above breathing canvas,
Rolled in hills of gentle green ...
Between the fossils towered,
Tossed, as though their bulk was only
Sand and starlight.
Contemplative, between extremes,
In wonder, and wondering,
Dreaming, perhaps ...
The river raged below,
And yet it only seemed
Lulling, inviting, seductive --
Now, in distance,
For with eyes closed, I feel
The warmth of sun, and
Full fathom five thy father lies,
Of his bones are coral made,
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange...
--William Shakespeare, from The Tempest
[This message has been edited by Skyfyre (edited 05-10-2000).]