The Dance Among Mountains

Lucca Daniel Green
02 November 2019


	An afternoon heat sizzling iridescent,
		the sky shimmers in Hyperion’s gaze.
		O Helios, magnificent to see
	in your gaze high overhead nine maidens
		resplendent dance a memorious chorus
		intricate of step in circles spun crosswise.

	The lyre-clad son of Leto radiantly attends,
		his steps in time ever forward.
	And in their midst astride, this poet,
		a sight rather unseen;
	at his heel, his lykos-born comrade,
		eyes alight prancing onward.

	This rough-shod mortal listens raptly
		to the music of the nine,
		Zeus’ daughters of mnemonic Memory,
		to his memorious queens attending.

	Spear-wielding aigis-bearing Athena,
		the maiden clad in helmet and iron
		daughter of a king and of Cunning,
		leaps down from Olympos’ heights
		alive to their choral invitation.

	The glaucous-eyed goddess leans
		spear, shield and towering plume
		against a long-enduring oak
		groaning below beneath the weight.

	“My patron queen, you’ve come!” calls
		our poet, delighted by her sight
		whose aid he most needs as ever.
	“Silly thing,” the goddess laughs,
		her greeting, “I am everywhere.
	 Now let us dance, my beautiful,
		  and let it all go.”

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