2016 03 18
Through blasting wind I trudge vast treeless plain,
hauling wagon of apples I obtained
from tangled trees teeming with angry snakes
to enter ring of stones by gushing stream.
Though darkness glows far vaster than small lamp
while swift gushing stream beats my garden wall,
I follow winding trail to tower of stone
and taste driving rain that flows from my eyes.
Old one-eyed man with long gray hair and beard
caresses raven perched on shoulder blade
who nods while I pour apples in brass pot
and boil them to sweet juice over warm flames.
Grim Godin gulps hot apple cider deep
from turtle shell as if he drinks sunlight,
then smacks his lips and grins, pinching my cheek,
and sighs loud as wind buffeting his tower.
While staring at his gaunt and sunburt face,
half-hidden by wind-swept swirls of gray hair
that seams to weave wind and starlight with love,
I feel warm glow of trust beam from my heart.
How many things he taught me of this world,
father wise in ways of this teeming Earth,
when he told me with voice as old as mountains
tales of his father who tamed leaping horse.
I turn to my children huddled by fire
who chant truth spells of animals and trees
while drinking apple cider with gray eyes,
and exclaim with pride, "In Godin we trust."
"In Godin we trust because his good eye
saw birth of this world from mountain of fire,
thus he is wise-earth wizard who knows all
and teaches truth about our teeming world."