Bide, or, And you thought I was sleeping
It is a special thing, to fly,
It can’t be done lightly.
First you must purify yourself,
You must go deep within the earth
Before you take leave of it
I perform the ritual –
I bide.
Beautiful black earth –
You are my skin
I shape in your safe
Darkness, what cannot
Be touched
Still I taste the sun
In these neat white roots
The first alchemy
Gold out of air.
I will climb the air
When the time comes
I perform the ritual –
I bide.