Light flows out of darkness: Apollo’s caress comes to the Earth
in his own time, frames each ridge-ed peak, molds every rounded valley.
His steady, beaten rhythm
heals by touch
all scars left to her fervent body
I lie awake in this place of familiar beauty
watching him come, the sun beckoning.
Earth is a confident lover.
She is no hurry, drinking in his blush of roses, his
a sweetness of wine, his warmth
and clarity of intent.
By this living light
each birth, death, each wound is recorded.
Every passing thought leaves its mark,
a shading, a stillness, a grace, a move
from blindness to sight, from sight to seeing
from eye of storm and breath of winter
to the heart of each spring-fed crocus.
I see the mountain blossom, she glows purple with hope renewed,
and as I lie within its golden center I taste
the sweet ooze of honey from rock.
