i walk out into a beautiful starry night
the frigid cold has left
now the sloe blossoms with pale petals
beckoning the crickets to chirp and lightning bugs to glow
fortnight, the blackthorn berries are ripe for plucking
hence, i hurried outside,
wicker basket in arms,
when i saw you
the most beautiful sight to bear
midnight; stars shining bright.
why, the corona borealis sat atop your fine frame
fit, for the queen who choreographs the galaxy
and, oh! how lousy i looked!
i still had flowers and leaves scattered in my unkempt hair
and i was wearing the simplest of brown dresses
without a hem, no less!
"i apologize for disgracing your bountiful halls, selene
please, let me redeem myself
for i could serve you the finest of liqueur sloe gin you've tasted,"
i stumbled over my words, then sought to fulfill the task
rushing inside, i wash and extract the juice from the berry
and stew it to a thick and fine mead, then i smile to myself
a little cinnamon, sugar cane and mint leaves added, surely will
make a quality vin ordinaire
dionysus must have blessed me to-night
one sip of my creation, and i knew.
the young god, i pour a glass to you
a simple but grateful sacrifice to my patron
then i got dressed; simple, but sleek
mossy green trousers and a cotton shirt with puffy laced sleeves will do
i plaited my hair with shards of quartz-
hopefully i look appealing to beautiful moon goddess
i emerge from my hut, bearing gifts:
a mini apricot pie, picked fresh from my garden,
some of my mushroom and chives stew
and my promised blackthorn wine
"forgive me, my lady," i knelt
"i had to use sugar, for i had not let the wine rest
as this was an abrupt homage."
the stars grew brighter, cueing me to set my offerings
a ladled bowl of soup was placed adjacent of me
and i pour wine into a rusty gold goblet i
ran into while digging for treasures
when soft footsteps interrupted the quiet of the night
and, there, selene stood in front of me
stunning with mystique, crowned with nebulae
clothed in silver, with an iridescent sheen
smiling brightly as the moon itself
"my starlight, you didn't have to do this,"
she spoke softly, gentle like a cool summer breeze in the dark.
she sat elegantly infront of my bowl of soup,
gazing ever so fondly at me
"my lady," bowing my head respectfully, my heart racing
she only smiled, telling me to serve myself.
i scoop stew and supply pie
all the while admiring the goddess before of me
she lifted my stew to her full lips
and she hums approvingly
my mother once told me staring is rude
but, i assure you, keeping a gaze from the moon is a herculean feat
my soup was bland- lacking of thick cream and buttered corn
the pie left a tart aftertaste, after sitting in my icebox
howbeit, the wine out-showned the meal-
pride myself, as it was that my abilities had not failed me
YOU ARE READING
𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐞
Short Story𝐢 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 [|𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠|] 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦...