Goat-eyed, he wanders far 
Outside the Maze of Man
Greeting the guarding Minotaur 
With a backward glance
New steps, very old Dance
Wearing the Face of Pan

Piping beguiling tones 
Calling sinners and saints
Counting souls, collecting bones
Only sunshine, ne’r sorrow 
Ne’r a thought for tomorrow
Today’s colors, all he paints

On and on, the music swirling,
Wood Fauns come to pronk and prance        
Woodbine twists into a ring,
Lilies blush with the heat of the dance

The Great Forest of Brocéliande
Slowly awakens to the Call
Root to root, her slowest laughter
Cajoles, beckoning one and all

A dark path opens 
On Pan’s whispered Word
Shadows seemed to implore:
“Dance with Angels of the Seasons
Child, to reveal the deeper Reasons
Pipe the Tunes that few have heard.”

With a great breath, 
Pan’s song expands
Pipes skirling, rising and falling
Carrying wildwood scent and savor
A hint of danger to spice the flavor
Beckoning, echoing the Elder Calling

On and on, the music swirling, 
Sylphid come to flit and flutter. 
Ivy enjoins the Woodbind’s ring, 
The bullfrog bows to the river otter 
Silver flashes from the rivulet 
As tiny fish school to the Dance 
The morning dove in her soft grey cloak 
Gently echoes the trilled cadence

High above in the wispy skies 
The Eye of Horus watches Pan
Ever-sharp, the she-falcon rises 
Drops into a blinding spin. 
From a distant field her mate rises free
Together they tryst to the vibrant call 
And as Angels guide the Earth-bound reel 
They consummate, in free-fall

So to the sacred Center 
They all come together
To the ancient Circle of Stones 
Pagan folk forming four quadrants
The foreground held for supplicants
Chanting in time to Pan’s piped tones

Spring’s raiment soft and bright
Amatiel, leading the children
Dancing in a rainbow of changing light
Seldom has come to grace the glen
Content to watch, distant, fen
She’s drawn, a new Dance to begin

Summer’s heat and growth, triumphant
Gargatel, youth by his side 
Dancing in shimmering waves of heat
Distant angel, full of pride
Aloof, watchful, golden eyed
Accepts Pan’s call, heard far and wide

Fall’s umber colours, sifting down
Tarquam, mature kith in tow
Dancing as dry leaves are blown
His somber palate we all know
Paints the land, before the snow
T’is Time this year’s seeds were sown

Winter’s chill grip has also come
Ctarati, the aged follow behind
Harp strings awaken old steps grown numb
Secure, knowing what they’ll find
As she slows the pulse of Time
Melancholy evenings, warmed with rum

As if a crystal bell has been gently rung
The Clarion Call emerges, echoes ring
To every sentient soul, Pan’s Song is sung

Some will list, then carelessly turn away
Some will say, ‘Perhaps, on another day’
Yet some few will hear, and follow the Fey

From deep within Brocéliande
Forest of the Quiet Way
Emerges now the Unicorn
Goddess astride, to herald the day
Her Centaur guards Man and Fey
The fabric of the Magic, open thrown

Starlight fades with the morning light
A hush now falls over one and all 
Pan lowers his pipes; silence seems right
Amatiel folds her downy wings
To stand mute in her yearning 
The Moon Goddess passes through their sight

From silver hooves Magic sparkle
Fading slowly from their view
Once again the music swirling
Pan’s new dancing on the dew
Grand and ancient standing stones
Frame the meadow in majesty
Weaving steps among, between
The Pattern set for those who See

Pan may call, and lead the Dance
Yet Pan is formed of a different ilk
He Knows the Ways, and walks the Paths
His piping sweet, his song like silk
Yet Pan walks to his own bright See
Separating Angel from sere Daemon
His lone companion, the Trickster, Loki 
The moment’s whim, their only sermon

[Michael Theroux writes: I write now from my home in Northern California; my careers span classically trained botanist, environmental health specialist, green energy developer and resource recovery web site editor. My prior publications have primarily been professional papers supporting these careers. Poetics crystalize images from my life: entering literary publishing in my seventh decade, I am seeking placement of my cache of art writings. In the last three years, I have had 69 poems and stories accepted. Many may be found in Ariel Chart, 50WS, CafeLit, Poetry Pacific, Last Leaves, Backwards Trajectory, Small Wonders, Cerasus, Acedian Review, the Lothlorien Poetry, City Key, Wild Word, Fixator Press and elsewhere. My novels, chapbooks and collections still seek good homes. Given persistence and time ….]