Bemoaned

The dripping drizzle of first summer dawn
The leftover pansies bloomed to its core 
I sang my morning symphonies 
Under the Greenberg oak 
The saddle of lost promised land 
The beaded sanctuary 
Waiting to be engulfed
A waning stormy moon
To questions and narrated agonies
A sea storm rained over 
Purging silhouettes under it's dark cavern
It bemoaned a devilish streak 
As if hanging under the churches of revelation
The green oaked smile 
Spoke to me
Its hands are gripping wet a cement of laugh 
A lull under the southern choir.