Earliest Poetry
The sunlight, bright as gods could ever hope
To be, fell down on isthmus, valley, sea,
On life and death, and limestone mountain slope
Before mere humans. Greece, as it would be,
Was meant for poetry but did not know
It. Men and women and their children came
And, instantly, lyrics began to glow
Around the fires and sacred places. Flame
Combined with rhythm, words, and wonder. Death
Was met with futile singing and with lines
That would have been immortal if the breath
In them had been hewn out in stone designs.
It should have been, but poetry is air,
Black ink, or sun that falls on warriors’ hair.
