Oh Weaver,
In heaven’s darkness, solstice was a reckoning, no tear ever so lonely as shed by winters moon drawing heat from midday sun into her aura, pronounced her loneliness; sleeps this night in the berth of heaven’s darkness, all manner of nomads on earth’s floor pay homage to sea and sky, owls, grey wolves, seahorses, and a bowl of tomatoes ripe from loving from lowly vegetable kingdom overcome their differences, sit together in silence, their heads bowed low, pass no judgment nor devour each other, It pleases you greatly to perform this miracle. Without warning fierce winds blow throughout the kingdom and the four earthly species become sightless, forbidden wedding between sun and moon has no witness, time suspends itself for this auspicious occasion. Her longing finds no respite in nights hush, sun consumed by her nearness carves a red talisman upon her heart inside of which slow burns his ecstasy as they lay within each other under canopied sky filled with changeling stars she whispers in his ear,
“Beloved, close your eyes I’ve a wedding gift for you.” moon places a snow cone inside his heart to quench his thirst during scalding midday heat.
such was the birth of dawn.
Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins