all that wild summons he had set upon the winds
surely the winds must have turned away
for there was no hearing
and so he called again
past all hearing, bearing-
in the seven woods
to no avail
except the moonlight beaded the desolate waters
like a veil never lifted, lifting
the sons and the daughters of dream
beyond the summers' green
and crowned thee with fame
and myth was stirred into an infinite flame
and poetry
though lamentation remained of all the lyric gifts
his best while his soul sang
what good was it to rename
the constellations in her honor
least of all to rechristen the old, old names.
mary angela douglas 3 july 2022
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