Night's Garden

Cimmerian clouds cover Sin
From world below. Rumbling
earth heralds passing Guldfaxe.

Earth's fecund smells open
from pounding rain now spent;
Old begats new.

As a spear, I plunge into
that waiting Nightscape,
Tapping along once
Snow packed paths
now shorn low, flanked by
saluting clover and chicory.

My eyes, ever widening,
Hold the sparking
Dreamforge, casting forth
dying earths with tales
Now told.

The hammer rises, darkness
falls; As Borges,
I continue alone
this hidden wending path.

The smell of oleander
and honeysuckle brush
across my cheek; A warning
that, while bound, she
ensorcells me.

I hear her hands move,
Braiding grass and vine
For next day's yarn.

She labors to survive,
And in wet exhalation
births a world.

That spittle, a flash
Before my wide dark eye.
A thousand thousand
worlds rise and fall
through darkened scape
of summer's midnight dream.

Jealous, this world flares
across the sky, rolling…
rustling, as the great
serpent wriths, shedding
skin, eating anew
flowers carried for Enkidu.

Once more a rumble. I look
back towards shelter, but
night shades what once was.

There is no shelter in these
waning days.  Best to twist
in on myself and climb through
the eye to find the calm of
lightning bugs and fireflies.