9/24/08_Poem by Betina Hershey Russo
In the sky
Mythic sails and magical wind chimes
Stir in the wind:
Sacred gusts of whistling, bellowing.
Oh, the moon is full and my trinkets are dear to me.
This night I feel sure Helen of Troy
Is out and about, jangling her bracelets.
All the men are mysteriously compelled to wander
Towards the center of the universe
Where the sails bellow and blow
In mythic flashes of white, compelling us all
To journey forth.
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