• Listen through the storm drain
    Can you hear the naiads singing?
    Do you see them skulking in the
    Shadowed hollows of the walls?
    Feral golden eyes, pale limbs
    And fronds woven in their hair

    They sing of the drowned Lily,
    Who dove deep, but once only.
    They sing praise to the watery echoes
    Of Moonlight on her veil.

    The rain, they say, is water, seeping
    From the tangled rivers of some other reality
    And the birds are only fish in the sky
    They say the ocean’s shifting
    Calling them away from mortal cities
    Till the ocean stretches her arms
    And embraces the land.