Thera: Before the Eruption
Spring returned on wings of sky-dancing swallows.
Through the blue hot summer, and half of autumn,
swift as flying arrows they’d loop and flicker,
Buds pushed out of earth and uncurled from branches.
Leaves and petals, feeding on light, breathed fragrance.
Seaways opened, first for the swift-oared galleys,
racing with dolphins,
then for tradeships, loaded with foreign produce,
seeking strong sweet wines and medicinal saffron,
honey, sundried fruit from last season’s orchards,
fish in abundance.
Year by year the worshipping sun’s caresses
heated earth’s wide womb and the teeming ocean.
Blessings poured unstinted. Why should such favour
ever have ending?