Nearly gone now,
The paltry gods of arrogance,
Their feet fallen
Down the darkened slips of nevermore.
Now soon
At last (as long, so long, before)
In the crystal hour of reckoning
The petals of the sky will open and unfold
Many a shimmering ring
Of blue mist, where the sun catches
Strands of dawn, while the gold dragon stretches,
Uncoiling flaming scales.
Then winged deer will fly again on the crest of the rainbow;
The hawk will circle cliff-towers
In the high winds of freedom;
Grass will laugh in the rainshowers;
Forests will sing
The mysteries of sun and snow
The pines and the rocks will recall fleetfooted tales
Of fairyfolk. Then the earth will awaken
Into a radiance
Of wildflowers,
And the mouse will remember all the wisdom
Of silver moons that waxed and waned,
Of dew-bright meadows now, at last, regained.
Written around 1996
© Sharon St Joan, 2021