Eternity's Sun Rise Poem by Frank Avon

Do not sing what you have not seen,
nor dance amid daylilies
while twilight welcomes evening stars:
Venus the voluptuous,
the hard armor of Mars,
sweltering with red.

Dusk brushes her skirts among the trees,
and one hears neighing fillies
across the meadow, seeking nuptials
beyond the iron bars
that raise like spears their forked heads.

Our estate
is not the multi-pronged candelabrum
of hammered silver.
It is an oaken bucket
and a drinking cup of cedar,
and water drawn from an icy spring.

Providence serves only those who wait,
lordliness is not disdain, but a crumb
tossed upon the river.
Do not raise your eyes upon Nantucket
unless you've been there with thimble and needle
and heard the voices of angels sing.

Pray without breathing
the joys you are seizing;
you must catch it as it flies
for what you seek defies
both rhyme and the logic of seasons,
only flickers in candlelight.

Handle it easily,
rejoice that it pleases you,
it's important to recognize
a diamond among the files.
Watch for wasps and honeybees
and monarch butterflies.