The Winged Bull



Where now


The mist enthralled horn


Of the sacred bull


In the morning snow?


Where the circling stair of dawn,


Lost in the clouded mountain


Heights.  Gone.


Fled from the grinding cars


Of destruction.




Yet still,


The winged bull


Did not die.


He waits on the far hill,


Beyond the last constellation


Of the sky,


His gold hoof pawing the thin air,


His breath






For the downfall of the masters


Of death,


For the undoing


Of the king of disasters,


Waiting to regain


His half-forgotten


Realm, that the lakes of the full


Moon may smile again,




The heron


Walks on her silver toe


Across deep pools of stars.




© Sharon St Joan, 2013, written in 2007



Photo: © Yuriykulik |






The cat-in-the-moon tiptoes

Through mist-meadows

Above the lake

That softly chimes.

There, nothing glistens

In the night-mirrored brake

No space, no time, nor history, nor dreams,

Only the scent of the white


Wafting forever on wind-beams.

While the moon-cat curls again

Into the cloudspun

Cave of timeless times,

Here, in this hour of roses,

And of all things newly begun,

The blue heron


Between the dawnlight

And the shadows

For the shimmering arrival

Of the great gold wings of the sun.

Written around 1991

Photo: © Luckynick /

The howl of the wind

Pin up your soul


And sell it too

In the devil’s sale

For a hatful of dollars.

Isn’t that what you’re doing?

And does your soul bleed

Like the trophy

You pinned

Up on the bounty string

While the desert grew


Wrapped in the pale

Skeleton of the night?

A tale half-told,

Withered on the vine.

Did you kill the moon too?

It looks white

And all dead hung out up there in the sky

To dry

Where the pine


Rattles in the old


And the howl

Of the wind.

And the tatter-faced owl

Is watching,

Still watching

From the luminous cliffs, caped all in shadows,

Bending over to read

The bones of her toes.

A lost bell might toll

While she waits for the world to fold

Up into the far, silver sea

Of whales and sails, and coral shale

That will sing once again

In the bright


Deeper and blue.

March 12, 2012


Photo: © Dgareri / / A coyote