Fugue Of Peace Poem by gary polonsky

A sonnet

Some songs are waiting to be sung
In voice or voices raised toward the sun,
Open-throated, heart-expanding lungs -
Thank you, breath, thank you to The One
Who ‎blows the winds of gratitude and hope,
The winds of organ pipes and clarinet,
The winds arousing lovers to elope
Until their seed ‎can dance the minuet.

The beginning, the middle and the end - truth
In its totality, simplicity,
As Johann Sebastien in a fugue
Captured in his reckoning of Divinity.
‎So sing, strum your harp, tap your drum,
And dedicate your ‎fugue to everyone.