Stephen Fuller *** Poetry, Essays

We Gather

We gather. Together. Let our masks
Down only to take a bite or imbibe
A liquored dose of what we need.
Our distance adequate for love

To bloom over other pinwheels spun
To keep us guessing at what matters.
The bite matters, what we drink
Of this communion, music sung to

Like memories that drip from childhood’s
IV. Can you imagine a cooler eve
In a fevered summer? Masks down
We can find something tasty on lips

And savor the sweetness of a fruity
Sunset that spills out all the citrus
From its basket to freshen day’s end
We’ll take the rosè cider please, make

A request of into the mystic and float
Away, our hearts magnificent Gypsies
Throbbing with the clouds dissolution
And find what’s behind the mask,

What’s not too late. Hear the foghorn
Invite us to dinner, invite us to toast
The smile behind the mask that wanted
To set sail with the moon and sun.

After Van Morrison’s Into the Mystic

14 Responses to “We Gather”

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