Advent by M. Everett Hinckley © 1990
An advent of wondering,
Jezebel or Penelope,
About the soft, scathing testimony,
From murmuring trees,
Barren of leaves.
Reproach, denial,
Is it you or me,
Landscaped by fallen leaves,
Will it be you or me,
You and me?
Sumptuously crisp,
I breath the air,
Any way, anywhere,
Am I there?
Smoky soft wisps,
Milky golden,
Sundown hair,
Rolling night,
Pleasure pricked,
with clouds flight.
The wind has whispered,
"Her eyes are nothing like the sun",
Yet no star has shown me such warmth,
And limbs are torn from trees,
By gales of no avail.
An advent of tenderness,
In gentle boughs,
Sumptuous and strong,
Long, very long,
As much as allows.
Cool fingers of wind,
Give wanton signs,
"Sleep just for the sight of you",
"What more can I do",
Such are the song's lines.
The fall,
They fall,
Autumn's hold,
After a soft landing,
There is an advent.
