escaping from illusory bars, brown eyes vigorously awaken to the night

scales falling from them like Saul’s eyes, now no longer blind or fearful

gliding into the music of the trumpet’s voice calling this mystically gifted one

gardenia trees and whippoorwills trailing her for a song of evening freedom

spinning around, she feels the soft cotton of her eyelet peasant dress

a piper of stardust, angel feathers, and fireflies to clean her broken heart

heading toward the open sea where lonely sailors make a hopeful start