The Silver Lining of the Grecian Clock

I stand along the river at dawn

When he, Apollo, rides his chariot

Across the dark, blank canvas.  His fine lawn

Mowing the stars with the new steed he bought.

Artemis’ spear catches the spoke of his

Painted vessel, so that he tumbles out

Onto the half starry field.  And no kiss

More bitter than siblings, their fights, their shouts.

Their hatred, their love, bequeathed unto them

Hath nevermore been so bright, so dark’ning.

One to day, the other night, Zeus condemned.

Polar opposites, the songs of birds sing.

Away, I run, when fair Apollo rides.

The time between dawn and dusk shall be mine.