No sooner aboard, then flurrying wings
draw attention to something impending,
an emissary, a youth alighting,
God of travellers and border crossings.
It is Hermes bringing immortal tidings,
ah, but that trickster is swift and cunning,
with amused smirk, he offers gleaming ring,
then springs aloft with a whirring of wings.
Yet when Penelope reaches for gift,
Ampelios slides jewel onto finger,
'T'was meant for me,' says he, pityingly.
Expectation cut wretchedly adrift
and mistrusting motives of harbinger,
Penelope bides her time, fittingly.
YOU ARE READING
Dragonish
PoetryPART 1: Seven poems that explore love. The sated wind doodles mischievously no longer the ravening raptor loosed that scratched sharp claws to my unfettered glee. Now are you temperate, husky, obtuse. PART 2: Follows the tale of a persecuted dragon...
