The Summoning

You rise from the river and the dreaming fishes by my feet don’t know you.

One from the spring, one from the fall, one from the gray wolves, one from the white does.

Their eyes anxiously hold you close.

My dearest friend from the coast, bearer of my wilted past, tell me you love me.

“Now ‘till horizon’s end,” you whisper back with black teeth and a mean gaze on the red rabbit at my
altar.

Where does the moon fall when lightning strikes it down?

You lost your way in the May dance, and I never learned to calm the waves.

Still you summoned the rain to hide me away.

My beautiful boy, take me to bed so we may never wake up to this old world again.