Heron arrived with a missive from the gods
hovering, waiting, slow ripples in the pond
wisdom this rich must choose its moment

Eurydice knew him in an era before the Heron
wrote him poems of saudade, semiotic dances
to coax the veils collapse, in slow, pained patience

Orpheus felt a steady sensation, like petals cascading
from a redbud tree of destiny that grows
on the banks of an oracle, his voice silence
dreaming, her embodied plea unanswered

Heron awoke, prophetic steps, a new era
watching, Heron bowed elegantly, low to the water
“It’s time” and the mirror of the sky rippled

pond transmuted to threshold, when she
bent low to see her reflection she found him
singing his mythic songs, her lover returned

as he came upon the shoreline to lie
beneath the sun, recognizing this liminal gift
of soft petals, her voice lilting like a breeze
caresses that she follows with her lips
upon his embodied plea, as flowers fall

Posted for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub, please join us!