A poem begun entirely by the Oracle, then nudged along to an ending of my choosing.
Hearts dance to the greening,
the slow dance that never ends.
Day dawns damp, sowing spangles
to coax seeds set deep
in the dark of the earth ocean,
still in winter sleep dreaming,
but spring stirs, will roll from a light swell
to storm-roar of shooting and spreading,
unfolding and unfurling, climbing
skyward towards the unreachable sun.