The sun is sinking westerly but slowly
And glinting flecks of gold upon the world;
It filters through the leaves, slanting and glowing;
The birds are silent, and the wind is blowing.
A rainbow softly shimmers through the splashes
Of the small stream that ambles by this place;
The only song’s this one I’m singing, darling;
The birds are silent, and the wind is blowing.
We loved and laughed, our hearts more keen with knowing
That fate finds warriors fastest, life burns bright:
Blue woad and horse-piss hair, you’d send them running —
Harp-spells and chariot-high, I’d kill with cunning.
We spoke of Summerland, our hopes still growing —
As distant as an echoed laugh uphill;
I hid my salt-sharp eyes while we lay sunning,
Sure you’d step first, and not wait for my loving.
This hillside kens the sunset and the valley;
I am alone, and yet I am not lonely;
All things have beauty, for my love is coming;
The birds are silent, and the wind is blowing.
[Adele Gardner is currently painting portals in her hall and building a closet TARDIS. Home wouldn’t be complete without five cats, five birds, a harpsichord, and two friendly guitars. She’s had poems and stories in Goblin Fruit, Strange Horizons, Daily Science Fiction, Sybil’s Garage, The Leading Edge, Mythic Delirium, MindFlights, and Star*Line, among others. She chaired the 2012 Rhysling Anthology. Her first poetry collection, Dreaming of Days in Astophel, is available from Sam’s Dot Publishing. Please note: most of this occurred under her previous byline, Lyn C. A. Gardner.]
