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Poetry | Outside ) | Links
Éana, fair as frosted glass, brown tendrils curling down her face, in dry vines, knelt weeping in the circle, alone and lost. Grey sky for one day blotted out the sun. He glowed all-powerful. He is gone now, swift shot from Eian's piercing bow. You are free now. She sits, weeping that she is alone, lets the snow settle on the flowers around her feet. Comes 'rianthré, green dancing, water-veiled and laughing, flying round the circle, and stops, ...your face... lifting, leaves spring, green, behind each nail's path, delicately the fair chin, for like glass she would shatter. ...is so familiar... The deep blue eyes raised, tears' translucent trails across her cheek. 'rianthré kneels, moss skirt shedding on the white shroud. Éana, clad in white silk, her eyes, brown beneath the tears, flash, meet 'rianthré's glowing green. So soft, the fine white hands in the strong ones, green-veined, slowly rise. 'And won't you dance with me?' They walk slowly, hand in hand, and it is hours before they are running, flying across the land, bare feet in the loose earth, hours before it is night. They kiss by moonlight, fresh shoots twining round dry tendrils, soothing them back to life, and the shadows glow.