A Crow’s Sight

The amber rays of the dying sun blew across the Skylord’s back.

Feathers rustling, birch leaves chattering & gossiping

Cloaked in shadowed airfoils, spanning in either direction

His pinfeather guise every element unleashed with ambivalent form

Harmony. Earth. Fire. Water. Air. Speech.

Skylord retired from His lonely perch

Gullywashed, the Queen, called to He

The urgency of Her petition acted as a compass

Guiding His way, They meet, locked in their uncertain flight

Desperate, They stared into the abyssal reaches of the still city

Dizzied by the onslaught of newfound privacy

Lost in the grounded magnitude of their limited exposure

“Show us, please, the human condition,” Singing in mutual puzzlement

The angry wind seemed to guzzle their words too quickly

Not allowing for the essence of that whine to breath

“Where are all the people?” His pretty Queen demanded of the clouds

Scowling at the silence of their billowy angelic faces

Once more, She prodded

Their weightless subjects could only mutter

Nonsense. Gibberish. Backward speak.

“Is it finally over?” The Monarchs shrieked in frustration

Circumstance. Lashing out as the matter began to manifest

Time lulled, a seamless vessel caught in the laziness of  lapping waves

The hoarse, tired voice rose up as reality, their Advisor finally checked in

“The world is Yours,” It spoke, resting from the great effort of the folly

“Gone?” They concluded.

“Changed.” They were informed.

“What now?” She sighed.

The river shuddered in response as the ice gave way

The flowages of water danced

Hidden beneath the smooth, pale stones

The rusty-bronze soil began to loosen

Seedlings emerged from their frozen cocoons

The trees cackled during the Spring thunderstorms

The language of the flocks began to change

The heat of summer began to hasten the larvae

Wriggling with new life in all their fervent passion

The carnal chorus of impatient frogs rose

Drowning out the questions which followed

An overture of madness in that silly interaction of life

Sage-green tadpoles wriggled

Newly swaddled under their waterlily blankets

“CAW!” The flimsy blindfold gave way

The Monarchs saw it with Their own eyes

Buoyantly drifting along with the swells of the Earth’s breath

Suspended in ecstasy, it was far from over

A rainbow flurry of unimaginable colors.

Filtered through the sight of flight.

The throne restored – Nature their Queen.

Ruled with absolute authority.

 

 

 

 

Published by Shining Quill of Deeply Rooted

I've been dedicated to Paganism and Earth Magick for 18+ years since Mabon 1999. I am a writer, an artist, and a student of nature.

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