Blest be the dawn, the luminous blue-slate, <br />the arch transfused by the glorious sun, <br />and blackbirds chanting hymnals in prickly bushes, <br />and rooks high over fields coughing up love. <br /> <br />Blest be the winds about the furrowed brow, <br />and the joyful whispers of dying leaves, <br />the maples staggered blissfully behind barbed fences <br />above the tombs of the newly redeemed. <br /> <br />Blest be pain that comes like a stark beggar, <br />the thorn-tree that has its roots in a star, <br />the sweet massacred gourds tethered to the rusting gate, <br />the apples heaped on the agonized floor.<br /><br />Leo Yankevich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/racked-beauty/
