by Anna Walther
Let us begin our song
with ocean, earth, and sky;
the Sun: fuel, fire, and light;
and the Moon: three-fold mirror and mistress of tides;
Their great and holy dance gives rise to
El Niño y La Niña, bickering twins;
and Polar Vortex, a trickster;
North Wind, a winter hag, blue and wild;
Green Rising, a spring maiden mild, and
the wildflowers that rise up where she sings,
beloved by the Lady of the Lake.
From earth rise the Liveoak Kings, attended by grackles;
in sky fly bats who birth under the Bridge,
in sight of Lady Liberty, an immigrant,
great-granddaughter of Pallas Athena,
who holds the five-pointed Star of Texas
over where river, prairie, and plateau meet.
White Buffalo and Gray Wolf, ghosts, roam
limestone hills and drink from
springs that babble at their feet;
From this very land they rise,
gates to memory and myth:
the clear creek, this green tree, that gray stone,
rough bark, cold water, smooth bone:
numina loci.
Hic sunt enim spiritus.