Oct 24
angry strawberry's picture

The Old Country and the New

I row to an island, pleading
With wine-dark sea to let me pass;
There, I found myself in Eden,
Eden's bliss amid knee-high grass.
I dance and follow the faeries,
Dancing the cycle of the stars;
My labor and leisure buried
Deep in old country, very far:

Away from warmth, away from light,
Light footfalls muffled by the snow,
Snow reflecting flurries at night
I wandered forests no one knows.
Tens of witches live in this wood
Where light can't reach even at noon;
Faeries would escape if they could,
Covens bade them dance beside the moon.