Morphing Poetics

Ok, so I had a few people ask me about the poem I was working on in January. Here it is, and it IS a mess, but it must be put on hold for grading purposes. So incomplete and imperfect, but here nonetheless. It is going to be LONG. I have the whole story in my mind, but it demands poetic form (annoying) since I usually like my poetry to be short and to the point ... which is what I feel poetry represents ... short clear images with immeasurable depth. Ah well, this is a saga. So here is a tiny piece of what will be a larger whole.

Solstice
Wakening the shadowed shimmer of summer
she grasps the hem of the purple vine
as trailing wistaria cloaks the coming dawn.

I glimpse her tiny hands, blushing roses to life
befriending butterfly or robin, biding time,
fingertips birthing wheat into seed.

The wild oak would be her suitor,
strong arm her to his will,
but she wanders immutable,
lighting even the torchwood to flame.

Simplicity, supernal and deep. She eclipses.
More than the gaiety of youth within her lies.
Surpassing all of summer, a totality of time.
*****************************************
He courts her slowly, turning each word into vibrance.
sending missives scented with tingling promise
into her garden, lightly blustering his adoration.

His Zepher kisses killing chance.
She cannot know his cool lips will change her
Roses to wilt and vines to buffet,
a cloak of blue traded for a gown of gold.
Glory in the adornment, while all else withers.
*********************************************
Straight from arms of autumn, comes the storm,
flaunting her white tresses, clothed in fog,
crystaline baubles tossed about, as a small consolation
to cover the ravages of her affair with the Fall.

Stronger than his flame red desire and yellow promises,
she benumbs all to silence, kisses each token
until they crackle to dust, then covers all
with her coat of white.