O you fiercely exquisite huntress,
Bow in hand, quiver on shoulder,
Running with the dogs
Through groves of wind-tossed oaks,
I am among your servants,
A tiny nameless creature,
Foraging for food,
Scurrying in low places
Beyond the eyes and ears of predators,
I adore those trusted footsteps,
The flash of raven hair between tree-trunks.
You, goddess, gleam at the center
Of all I know and can imagine.
You’re young and beautiful.
The necklace of the crescent moon
Bounces at your throat.
You don’t protect me —
I could be killed within the hour —
But you vindicate my existence.
You’re eternal life.
I’m eternal gratitude.
[John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, The Kennedy Curse with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Pennsylvania English and Nerve Cowboy.]