Myth
(continued)
•
• •
“Thy
wife is bright and is Thy boon;
but of her chasteness, rumored blotched.
Her womb is sound, made full by Rain,
the child to come, a mongrel rude.
“She
smiles for him in bows of red.
In blushing hues, she waves her rays.
As Rain departs, her eyes are soft
with lashes drawn like butter silk.”
Wind whispered
all in feigned concern
then counseled Sky as Chancellor Sum:
“Be lenient, Sire, and kindly judge;
forgiveness stems from one who’s just.”
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