Light and Darkness

A Garden Walk

Her hand rests upon a latch,

metal and timeworn,

fashioned into the face of a bird

With a delicate push of her pale young hand,

inward groans the gate,

revealing a path carpeted by mist

that stretches into the wet, dripping green

Her footsteps without sound

on forgiving soft soil

lead her deeper and deeper

into a garden never known

by a stranger

Though cold and damp chills her skin,

her thoughts linger on the sweet garden's end.

But first a visit to make

to a seat of softened stone

holding memories of laughter

and times long since flown

It sits at the center past the roses

of dripping ruby light

and the vines and the tangles

like webs all alight,

resting beneath a canopy

of burgeoning blue light.

The tiles of marble, the statues of stone,

the mosaics with faces, unknown, unknown

A fountain propels water

over slippery smooth stone

from the heart of a mountain

born before all others known.

It is here that she drinks;

it is here that she rests

'til the hour to move on

'til a time that is soon

Then her path of mist narrows

by the strength of the starling's tune.

Its length will end at a pedestal that is waiting

on this bewitched night in June

for the woman to return,

as she is made of stone,

to stand upon the pedestal

under the light of the risen moon