David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
Beating with deathly silence
With the stillness of the breeze,
It flutters at will in the early dawn.
Breathless beauty snowy white
Holly Blue is a beautiful sight.
I lay sleeping silently on the wings
Of a blade of grass when passed
By the phantom Celastrina Argiolus,
Going to or coming from her bed
In the river of dreams with the troth
Of her majesty advertised in the broth
Of the winding weeping willow which
Stood still on the bank, watching, silently
Whispering in the wind, go here
Go there, deft turns on the wing
Make the bright morning sing
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