Old Sol drinks of a silver sea,
his embers burning low,
after a mercurial flight through the blue
with beautiful Venus in tow.
Resting his laurels on the world's rim,
molten Old Sol takes a bow,
embracing the Lady in a golden glance
as she hovers over his brow.
She ascends a heavenly staircase
via sugar-spun cirrus lath,
each cloud haloed with angel glow
to light her amethyst path.
At first, ablaze in fiery white,
they converge in chariots of flame,
draw scarlet swords through the bay's gray silk
...begin their evening games.

A celestial mirror suspends all time,
bound by the song of the sea.
A heron silhouette, still, on one leg
shadows eternity.
But, Lorelei, maiden of the deep,
luring Pan and his flute,
undulates on the sandy shore,
seduction her endless pursuit.
Come dance with me, she softly beckons,
her petticoats swirling and gliding.
Winking and flirting, they trail white lace,
slip gently back into hiding.

Then twilight marries the sea and sky,
they kiss in a violet veil,
blush to the toast of misty dunes,
stardust left in their trail.
But Old Sol, like a suitor spurned,
lowers his chalice of gold,
takes his smile and bids them adieu,
bequeathing them Neptune's cold.
The chariots doff their haloed glow
and hoisting lavender masts,
in schooner salute to a honey moon,
scud over a sea of glass.
Venus holds court from her satin throne,
her glowing sceptre held high,
She adorns her gown one star at a time
and sequins the evening sky.

` Klassy Lassy `
October 1999