Let it Go

The clouds are frozen like a painted scrim
Against which we should play some hopeful scene
Full of delightful power in the dim
Yet oozing sunlight. Octarine
Shadows pulse from who knows where and touch
The flowers--also frozen in the sun--
Which at first glance seemed to be nothing much
But are transformed. And all of this is done
But in an instant. Soon the clouds will roll
The light will blaze again in summer heat
The shadows, banished, melt, the flowers wilt.
Yet here and now, before the time is spilt,
The moment generates a crystal soul
Like music on a staff presents a beat.