When stars were still
the watchful eyes of gods,
twinkling and ancient,
the great serpent
slithered down out
of her milky darkness
into our skeleton forests.
She carved
the land
as she went,
and in her wake,
she left
channels deep
and winding.
Soon, the serpent
in her travels
grew to love
the earth
for all its faults
and ruddy dawns,
for its abundance
and its dearth.
And when she told
her fellow gods
to the sky
she would not return,
they wept with grief
and wept until
their ancient eyes
did burn.
Their saltless tears
rained down and ran
through the
fresh-carved land,
rushing on
for centuries
much to the joy
of man-
Who planted green
along the beds
of every
slithering river,
who bathed and drank
those tears the gods
so gracefully delivered.
pm poetry 