Oh, teach me the meaning of tenderness, dear skies, Through the unfurling ribbons of your embrace. ‘Whisper to me the ethics of being lean
In my feasting celebration for life
For love.. .for kinds.
I hear your voice in bounteous boughs,
In the nectar driven honey bee.
It resonates in inky caves of tribal spleens,
In the life of life flowing ever onwards,
Those that bubble up and sweet,
In the fragrant blossom of lovers' buds
In grasses nurturing and decorative.
I see your voice in heavenly colors,
In shooting stars and half hills,
Mountains,
In the heavens.
Teach me Virgil's history of tender plan,
And open the eyes in the confrontation of self.
Give me visions of supping lions and tigers,
Moors and Spaniards and Romans,
Of Apaches and Pilgrims,
Of Africans and Mankind.
Oh, teach me gentleness,
As the palms sway on the breeze,
As soft wings night creatures surviving
Survive, then gentleness.
Darrell B. Grayson
