PAN
Quiet! Don’t you sometimes hear from deep in the orchard
the Gods of agriculture weeping their green holiday
as flutes sing sweetly to each other?
(in the cisterns the face of autumn still reflecting)
The clear skies didn’t fool me yesterday
I saw Him trying to find his way among the grapevines
His moulted skin shimmering on His back.
He stopped: up high, the moon, malicious, shone.
He tuned His ear to listen to the softly blowing breeze.
His eyes and ears searched for vanished echoes
in that still hour when the night turns numb and frozen
and straight to his lips He brought his reed,
discordant yet so sweet, hatred mixed with laughter,
exotic tune drawing evil from the vines
fast tune dispersing unknown shivers
and yet the dead leaves stood and danced.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562959

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513