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.
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