Christine Griffin





I wake to trumpet blasts

And the air sings with lemon light.


Buttercups flow from my fingers.

Smooth citrines shine in the arching vault.


Beyond the sliding stone

The world glows in a saffron dawn.


Firefly sparks spring from my hair

And rise to the gilded Heavens.


Behind, the silent path and the empty crosses,

Stark in the growing dawn.


Ahead, a road of shimmering topaz stones

And the rising Sun.

©2011 Christine Griffin

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