Pantheon
Here's a poem for the summer gods:
for the river, muddy and inscrutable,
and running slow, father of heavy air
and mosquito, cool home to minnows;
and for the shade, dark brother who
hides but lingers to announce the slow
arrival of mother night, dressed in
fireflies, and dancing with the moon;
and for the rain that brings the garden
soil to life, that calls forth the worm
and cools the air, that pools for a time
before fading or clawing deeper home;
and for the storm, brother to the rain,
that pounds his chest and flashes his eyes,
that flickers in the distance like a candle
and knocks the branches from the trees.
and for grandfather sun, the open eye,
who watches and pushes us out through
ourselves, who fills every space, slows
our pace, and weighs heavily upon us.
Oh summer gods, we sing to you through
the ecstasies of cicadas and crickets. We
paint you with dandelion and daisy and
tiger lily and honeysuckle and lavender.
We drink you like clear water and wish
never to be absent from you, for you
make us young and capable, you cause
us to open like the petals of a flower.
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