On Terra Nova

Grace (Pastel) by Melanie Lee

  The Graces smiled
as we approached, 
casting blue light
on places green and gold.

 Introductions not needed

 we knew who they were. 

Beauty, Creativity, Wisdom

sang their siren song that night,

insistent, raucous

hooting, tooting, rooting,

 loud enough to wake the roosters,

 sweet enough to turn the tides. 

  Polite but pointed we asked outright

Can you tell us where we're at?

Creativity shrugged. Beauty blushed. 
A sidelong glance as Wisdom sat.

 Be  here now, they said, 
simple as that.



Surrender, they urged,
Butter melts best in a warm oven.
Sit here a spell, call this home.

 Too tired now to roam again
wondering if this truth
 lay too far beyond our ken. 


The indigo night's embrace
tempered our fears so
  we laid our bodies down
like pats of butter on the ground.
Surrender now, we may be home
 Tomorrow, we said, then we'll know.

.