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The Cross Beside The Baltic, by Caspar David Friedrich
Robert L. Martin

Melody on Air

Melody on air,
sacred Psalms in the wind,
drifting rivers above the clouds
in the lazy skies,
music in its melodic flowing
in the hidden messages
of the voices in the rocks,
the sounds of water over water
in their gentle cascading
from upward heights,
slowly falling over the rocks,
nature’s natural symphonic staging,
murmuring echoes in space,
a sweet rasping of pure sound,
the hissing of the tightened air
from it’s inception in the heart
from the tongue of Polyhymnia,
broken into fragments of love,
the sound of love and music,
flowing through space and time,
sweetened by the smiles of the sun,
the rays of the daughters of light,
seven miles from heaven,
floating upward to the shores
to the feast of the Eucharist,
to the altars in the cathedrals,
to the anointing of its heart,
then the falling through space,
floating through sacred channels,
mingling with the Music Gods,
moving toward earth,
air if passion dust,
of the melodic winds,
of the whistling pines,
the sound of the breathing
of the hissing air
landing on the ears of the heart,
upon supple surfaces
and into the soul of man.

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