whispering if over stormy sea
and diamond-lighting rocks
~through a blue-shadowed sky~
I dream of a honeyed-tongued goddess
singing the music of a thousand springs
and time stops there, recalling when
as mist blows away,
The Oracle made me work for this double puente, which probably isn’t a form, but oh well, more rule-breaking. I think she has more to say, but I’ll let this stand for now.