Member Poem

near the edge of the blooming valley
the bells chimes, their echo carrying her majestic being and,
trailing her is the shawl of mist, cold and reaching out
to wrap her and hide her
but she morphs, she laughs, a whistle of her presence
escaping like the mischievous twinkles of her companion shone above
the first of waves rocks below, roaring and twirling upon seeing her again
her smile reflected by the blazing rays of Apollo

it's a tale eons old, woven into existence among the chaos of mortality
she ensures the living of a beautiful peace, a shining presence in the cool of the night.