Embers of Dawn

Risen from blue embers of dawn
garlanding hilltops of verdant grass,
in a crevice, concealed from the clamour
of the mundane, she fills her well
with fresh waters, pure as autumnal snow.

Enclosed by the mountains' range
her valley is flooded with birdsong
weaving soft sunlight among the trees
that keep secrets of old, untouched
by whispers of malignant weeds.

At eve, with beckoning chimes of
the chapel's bell, her prayer lifts
the spirit of those who are gifted
with the balm of her verses,
bathing in warm vernal breeze.

Soft-pawed comes her footstep,
lithe as the fragile birch
keeping watch at the sea.


(for my friend Yelena)