The Goddess and the Astronomer
She danced the trees’ vermilion dream
With hands that beckoned to the night
To send upon a lunar beam
A partner for her lone delight.
Then, swiftly in the silver glow,
The reddened leaves took elfish flight,
And sporting where the breeze would blow,
They danced her through the forest wide,
Through gates that only ravens know,
To stars where she is glorified.
Of snow are clothed his cabin walls,
Of ice his eyes that scan the spheres,
While tears turned snowflakes softly fall.
Her friends, the fleetly roving deer,
Draw near to mock him silently-
They stamp his flame, and disappear.
Her birds invade the astral sea,
And break the constellations’ lines
Confounding his astronomy-
Her planet still he strains to find.
Her raven messenger am I,
Who watched him cast her love away
By doubting her divinity.
His heart shall freeze by break of day,
His wintry penance all in vain,
Unless he find the starry way.
And though to lead him I am fain,
To her commandments I defer
And stand aloof, until she deign
To pardon her astronomer.
Ryan Chiang McCarthy is an MG and YA fantasy writer who has completed his second novel, a YA gothic horror, Endzela the Wanderer. He is currently writing another horror novel about witchcraft in the jungles of Borneo where his mom grew up. When not writing, he enjoys traveling with his wife and poring over quaint and curious volumes of forgotten lore. You can follow Ryan on Twitter @ChiangMcCarthy.