Tableau for Contemplation

Gold fire in marigolds, magnolias, the burning fields
Sending their crisp delight of ashes to the winds, the skies,
In their velvety softness, blue cusps of their hems,
All finery of silky clouds. A day like today
You want to run all the gemmed, budding fields
For miles, lick the salt foam of the fragrance in sins
Of the whispering breeze: "Something far, Chalcidean dark ends,
And cynotaphs of scrawled moonlight nacer," what does it say?
The colloquy of life like a fine liquer, liquer
Of the imagination, sweet blooming elixir,
And the hidden garments of books, cast about like pale
Dancing shadows of veils, filtering the sunlight into split
Rainbows of ingenuity, and served up on miasmatic floors
The golden mosaics of pawns. Always by the sea it is calm,
And the eternity, the soft coo of the gulls, the rushing murmur
Of the far off dulcimer lutes, and even then the Zen-like sands.