A Rivering

Bring green barges for the winching, heft a portage of willowy thrones for the wind thrummers, gild each gap with dewy vines. A droning in the leaf shelters, all the humming skimmers grown beyond their husks. Gather the garner to be had sift and share. Time to haul-in Lady flaxen hair her goldenrods dancing. We have windows, behind them volant dragons glitter and whisk. We see her serpent forms in the airy whim. We have lashes on ox-eye buds, honeycombed fodder in the silky sap, tidings leap, utter bright on every tongue. It is the rivering. The Spring awakening and the rioters are weaving sunlight everywhere.