Daughters of the Evening
standing tall on hind legs
retracting her claws
our vixen plays
with the sound of her laughter
she comes to quench
at the apple tree
fox earths below
roots wrapped ‘round the memories
caches of bitter seeds
the horn of Saint Hubert blows
invoking a storm
thundering hooves fall
with striking barks
they’ve deemed us
the beasts of the chase
we stay underground
‘till the danger has passed
the green hand of love
cupped fingers to the sky
born from the soil
born for the holding
of tender flesh, of skin and pulp
the fragrance of beauty
a den for the resting
roots wrapped ‘round the memories
housing animal reveries
the daughters of the evening
come to heal and to tend
on drifts of golden light
long shadows to bend
the dragon is slumbering
he will not wake to their song
and the fruits of our eyes
become invisible at dawn
the apples of our eyes
become invisible at dawn
