Summer Song

"Summer Song", By Awanydd Lief Myeras-Silvermoon (Page 1)

SUMMER SONG
  by Lief Myeras-Silvermoon

Yesterday, I dreamt of summer again:
Of her short, delicious nights,
Listening to the crickets' song when
Sleeping 'neath starry lights.

I dreamt of shadows, long as days,
Stretching from the trees,
Dancing to the sunlight's rays
While caught upon the breeze.

I dreamt of peaches and of plums,
Glittering there like gems,
While in the distance, beating drums
Rattle at their stems.

   A spider creeps along my arm
   And tickles its fine hairs,
   Screaming silent, shrill alarms
   As it with eight eyes stares.

I dreamt of cherries and of grapes,
Both lovely summer treats.
Between my teeth, their juice escapes
While sweat drips down my cheeks;

   While sweat drips down my cheeks,
   Black bird wings spread above;
   A feather sheds as, through his beak,
   He caws in mock of love.

I dreamt of large cicadas clicking
Their noontime lullaby,
The lazy afternoon time ticking
Into an evening sigh.

   I stare into the spider's eyes
   And nigh forget my breath;
   Her fangs, hungry, twitch and rise
   Whilst I envision death.

   An ancient tree that's long since died
   Creaks and shivers with foreboding,
   And in its branches, side by side,
   Perch seven black birds crowing.

Yesterday, I dreamt of summer again,
Of all her music sweet--
   But all these dreams I've had have been
   Chimerical deceit.

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You read what is written on stationery adorned with passion vines:
Lady of the Summer Song,

It is this epithet which inspires my song for You, enclosed.

For Your challenge, I devoured texts about the Wyrd. I wandered through the saddened mists of Faethorn, and lingered at the archway guarded by thorns. I spent time meditating by a shrine raised in Your name, and I studied the webs and cocoons which draped the tree husk's branches. There are patterns there, surprisingly neat and orderly.

Your spiders are remarkably organised, and they paint with beauty wrought by their own hands - something I try to do myself, however wild I find my own inner world and expression to be.

Your creations - many of them, most, are small in size. I spend much of my time contemplating the little things, too. My Lady Whose essence I bear didn't paint sweeping skies or sculpt the mountains; as You know, She paints the flowers and their fruits.

When I thought I could imagine how my beliefs could meet with Yours in something resembling harmony, I asked another of the Glomdoring to help me understand Gloriana. To my sadness, I learned how her people disregard the memory of the Fairest Forest. She offered instead to show me what she feels for the Glomdoring, but at my request, she painted a picture of the Wyrd for me to express it instead.

I am sorry, beautiful Lady. The image Esei painted was painted with love, but I fear that if I look too deeply into the darkness that she sees, its tendrils, like shackles, will pull me inside.

Lief Myeras-Silvermoon
Avatar of Maylea, Bloom of Serenity
Stationery adorned with passion vines is holding:
"scroll229159"                a watery scroll of the summer solstice
1 items found.

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You address stationery adorned with passion vines to Viravain, Lady of the Thorns, and immediately a harried-looking elfen comes out to take it from you. She whistles, and a great horned owl comes flying into the room. The elfen attaches stationery adorned with passion vines to the owl's leg, and it speeds away.