She Comes, Part One

For all the night she trod the furrowed earth As she has walked all winter in her wake In seeking for the child she brought to birth The maiden bride whom Hades chose to take The gibbous moon is waxing to the bright And shedding shifting shadows on the lands One single moonbeam spills down through the night Upon the rutted earth on which she stands Made heavy by the weight of mother’s tears The ground beneath her feet begins to yield The imprint of a child’s foot appears Emerging from the darkness of the field The dawn is tinting grey the silken skies The lifting mist moves gulls to take the air She swears she hears these words within their cries She comes, she comes, she comes, is nearly there… Around the hill of Silbury swirl the springs From many sources meeting there as one Upon the fence a bardic blackbird sings His songs of seasons ended and begun The heron stands in wait down by the brook The willows’ leaves weave rills upon the stream The cormorant is fishing for the rook Whose shadow shapes a fish from daybreak’s gleam From alder trees drip drops of ancient dew Like shining crystals, in to waters deep The grey of morn becomes a brighter blue New lambs are woken from the dark womb’s sleep A muffled drumbeat pounds within her bones Thrills through her feet and trembles in her chest Draws from four corners people of the stones To stand and lay the winter to his rest Can it be so, she thinks, that she will come And willingly escape the thrall of Hades Be called by this fast beating of the drum To dance among the wild lords-and-ladies...? (See Part Two) © Gail Foster 2016