Archly, the Goddess raises one eyebrow,
'Silly some are, yet all have great power;
a wise farmer knows which oxen best plough,
which bullocks to breed and which to devour.'
Penelope nods, properly chastened,
clearly they must be carefully questioned;
cautious, she queries; will not be hastened,
thirty alone for this quest are destined...
one for the currents, one for the sea-shore,
one to still winds, one to summon rainstorms,
one who from sea can replenish food stores,
one who can brine into water transform.
All she chooses have talents galore,
much will be needed for what lies in store.
YOU ARE READING
Dragonish
PoetryPART 1: Seven poems that explore love. The sated wind doodles mischievously no longer the ravening raptor loosed that scratched sharp claws to my unfettered glee. Now are you temperate, husky, obtuse. PART 2: Follows the tale of a persecuted dragon...
