The Fragrant Gift

Wrapped in fragrant lily petals, lay a pair of silver metals, graven with the finest etches,

of a master's limber scrawl.

He had drank of skyborne nectars, being commissioned for his vectors, by a spirit dressed in feathers, arriving from an airy host.

Told that these two silver earrings, were to lend a gift of hearing, to its destined chosen keeper, this he knew was heaven's task.

Being wrought throughout his fingers, as they trembled spirit lingers, sending their divine vibrations, into supple flourished bends.

Thus the pair of spiraled spooning, crescents curved like rippled moon in, undulating balmy waters, in a June soaked lunar pond.

Took on heretofore non-written, forms with whorls and wavy scritten, flourished arcs that were the symbols, of a melodious aural tongue.

That above the earthen voices, heard beneath all sonic noises, in the hidden heart of Sengral's, optic opened subtle mind.

With its unheard song of golden, notes not heard nor eye-beholden, worked their movement through extension, of his softly wavering hand.

Thus by art of this attendant, double twirling verse-laced pendants, sheened with polished argent lustre, were born with gleaming cast.

To his patron calm yet eager, showing him what wasn't meager, cast his hand into the sunlight, palming both the silver strands.

"Here" he said, "Thy work is done." And let him cast his eyes upon, the pair of smoothly twisting vessels, to be worn in floral breeze.

The feathered creature pleased and stirring, thanked the craftsman and with whirring, wings bestowed a shell with pearls, unto the artisan then turned.

And taking two fresh fragrant curls, which on the flower near unfurled, he gave them bed in which to carry, to their intended maiden.

And flying forth above the marsh, and soaring over mountain harsh, he came to the sylvanian garden, where Leda spent her vernal days.

And there she gazed and well received him, knowing not but yet perceiving, that this plumed majestic guest, had something yet to give her more.

Opening the incensed petals, peach in color with the metals, sparkling in the shining daylight, and to her lock-strewn ears adorned.

And when they on her lopes were swaying, music like a chanter praying, came to her and in a voice, nor-heard nor-learned yet understood.

Whispered in its breathless tones, waves that carry unheard moans, it spoke in unseen light a message, mingled in ambrosial rhymes.

This it was annunciation, telling her a procreation, not by choice but heaven's measure, to her womb would come to be.

Dazzled by this fleet expression, she noticed not the feathers pressing, just upon her bosom warmed, by sunbeams of the falling sun.

And there just near the lilacs twisting, with the rose and orchids visiting, did the swan in plumy carriage, make his way beneath her robes.

And later leaving by the twilight, with sun and moonlight on the violet, then she came upon her senses, in that mountain-terraced yard.

And watched the sunset and the star rise, that was in the distance far as, the horizon where the flight of, that fowl visitor disappeared.

And by the months she kept the earrings, and they gave her still more hearings, that would sing of newborn tidings, that to this garden soon would come.

And days went by and hours passed, and Leda's womb grew firm and fast, before the time that Autumn next, seeped colour from all the trees.

At night announced by shooting star, in constellation Sagitar, a babe was born from twixt her limbs, with pearly cheeks and and winged back.

And mischief would he bring to be, but harmless yet he brought her glee, as he bound all beast and bird, to heed his song and follow true.

And when her belly had receded, her silver earrings weren't needed, for the song that used to sing them, carried from the young boy's breath.

She cast them out into a river, carried with the current hither, off beneath the mountainside, where in a crystal pool they lay.

And now the garden dances gaily, with butterflies and birds in melee, twirling to the tunes that warble, with the trills of vibrant notes.

And sometime in the August sky, beneath the cloud by clever eye, a glimpse of white wings in the air, is spied a sailing yonder.