Son of Sun

January 9, 2008
By Christine Stoddard, Grinnell, IA

The serpent’s eye conquers the sky a brilliant red
the legend bled from ancestor to ancestor
mother to daughter, sister to brother

The genesis of the sun---like a smoking gun
the wisps that saw death never disappear
not in an hour, a week, a year

Where there is heat, lingers fire
Even in silence, there is always someone shyer

Today there is light
Tomorrow, black not white
prepared for the moon’s cold reign
for the Great Star shall become mundane

and we shall worship it no more

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