the Beltane Sin
hail, sweet fairies of the glade!
how flattering are the verdant garlands
clinging to thy neck.
I catch your feathered tiptoeing in my ear,
as you dance solstice celebrations
'round thy strange fire.
Chant thy incantations
with immaterial voices, for
(I hear all)
Tuck those unseen fingers into
nature's pockets; I know
of their avarice.
Grip them to Hades'
crumbling walls,
lest your dark descent be
swift.
how flattering are the verdant garlands
clinging to thy neck.
I catch your feathered tiptoeing in my ear,
as you dance solstice celebrations
'round thy strange fire.
Chant thy incantations
with immaterial voices, for
(I hear all)
Tuck those unseen fingers into
nature's pockets; I know
of their avarice.
Grip them to Hades'
crumbling walls,
lest your dark descent be
swift.
209th Weekly Poetry Contest