CALLING THE LEGENDS
Skein of wild geese calling,
Beloved child of morning;
Green of the sage and the willow tree-
Grace of the last leaves’ falling.
Hark to the skirl of mourning,
Crying life’s cold warning;
Blue of the waves and the gods’ decree-
As Icarus’ wings are stalling.
Blows of winds’ bluff brawling,
Blare of sunrise dawning;
Red of the tears as the world bleeds free-
As the legends rise a’borning.
Oh my love, come live with me,
In the streaming tears as the world bleeds free;
In the beat of the waves and the gods’ decree-
And the sweet wild sage and the willow tree.
Calling the Legends
