Arnaz
OCTOBER MORNING
This morning is still flushed with dawn
While the birdsong wakes the sleepy fawn
And the sunlight sweeps the cloudless skies
On the twigs fog silently lies.
The moon is still perched in the blue above
Tinted now with the white of a quiet dove.
And the leaves of trees are orange and lit aflame
Rustled by wild winds untamed
The earth is quiet, apart from the sounds of its breaths,
The mist hovers on a chilly lake and bird nests.
The grass is painted white with early winter frost,
The sunlight is an echo of a time now lost
Haze floats lazily among the woods
In which lies a cottage steeped in the smell of baked goods.
And the children build forest forts out of twigs
And pluck from ancient trees new, ripe figs.
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A HAUNTED GARDEN
On this evening, the stars flare heavenly white
Twinkle and smile in the inky blue night.
And the statues glow eery and grey
As if they are imprisoned but have something left to say.
Something ghostly, something strange
And something mostly out of range.
The daisies gleam in phantom light
The fountain runs with quiet might
And the wind howls in a sinister tune
Chanting darkly to the silver moon
Here appears a spirit, its voice sharp as a hiss
Draped and edged in star-tinged mist.
It is ancient and from a time far gone
Now searching for a place to belong.
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ALL THE GODS
All the gods live in valleys and lakes,
Residing in hurricanes, storms and snowflakes.
When that indulgent belief left the earth,
They lived on in faint echoes and soft mirth
All the gods live gently in woods and clouds
Eternal as the sun, they flee from all crowds.
And grow misty eyed at their waning memories
Eroding, vanishing with each century.
How they would loom and tower in their palaces
Some gracious, others filled with malice,
And hold the lives of mortals in their pristine hands
Stretch out their arms and embrace all lands.
Apollo in his chariot, with his bow and lyre
In fresh splendour and the beauty of fire.
Now lives in the summer breeze and by dandelions,
Gone is his worship by all Achaeans.
Heavenly Aphrodite sleeps in the roses and flies with doves,
Finished is her long reign over love
Draped in moonlight and rising from the sea
She is fair and divine, but gone for eternity.
Nimble Hermes, swift and thieving
Light footed, entering the underworld, then leaving.
Lives on in the twinkling eyes of merchants and crooks
Gone is his trickery, his sly grins and cunning looks
In the clouds lives the ardent king Zeus
Governing law and lightning and truth
He descends to the earth in a storm every now and then
After losing a throne, one would never be the same again.
The gods are immortal, it is true.
But what use is life, if no one remembers you?