© Jsuspence7cc | Dreamstime


Ender of worlds, you who are


The moon-winged light


Glimpsed through silver clouds that recall only


The music


Of the rain


That hums


On the dry branches of the scrub oak,


You who are the soul


Of the juniper trees and the wind-waving sage,


Re-awaken now your lands of magic,


And so,


Unmask the deeper, greener forest


Of long ago,


Abode of the forgotten fairy folk.


Young Ganesha watches from among the red-encircled blossoms


To hear anew


The clear


Ringing chimes


Sound, that the dust of a crumbled age


Is gone,


Swept away and cast




On the gusts of the great




That peace may settle ever after


On the blue-


Belled petals


That gather in an opalescent bowl,


A glimmering, crystal grail,




Beyond where the ragged hulls of iron ships


Were set adrift on a tired sea.


Soon the haloed star


May bless the night,


And the coyote


Sing her laughing song again


In the darkness, beside the shimmering gate


Of a time beyond times




At last


The long-toed crane


Dips his beak


Into the cold waters of the creek.




Mahadeva, Shining One, Dispeller of fear,


May the swans, who know, and have always known, all things, sail


Ever near


Before the bright, sky-clad boat of the dawn




On through the echoing waters of a many lilied mist.


© Sharon St Joan, August 2017

Photo: © Jsuspence7cc | Dreamstime