There is a tender hour
When vapors rise to kiss the flowers.
The sun sweeps the earth and green stems of fertility.
Weave to a melody hummed in tune to God's will
Whispering, sighing, soft, the tender hour,
When ears listen, eyes see, and senses feel
Time holds to itself the secrets of infinity.
Beloved, betrothed to a silent determination
To live, to survive, to be!
Life does not die,
It rests to its own dust,
To rise anew to another sun!
Pleasure my spirit to my need,
Hold my heart firm to the beauty
Of all that is mine, for in its truth lies the future.
Let me in my final hour know,
That flowers will press the earth to be free
That green tendril leaves will bow
To the murmuring winds
That the seas will govern,
Skies comfort and the earth hold
And love, that benign gift of light,
Shall be retrieved from the shallows
And held once more to the heart of man!
Doris Deleuze Raffaele