By Jillian French – News Editor

When smoke from burning off’rings rises high,

And carves its silver knife in aerial flesh

The open wounds outpour with heaven’ly fire,

and sunset casts his glow with dying breath

A surgeon’s hand extends to stitch the cut,

and wraps his shadowy gauze ‘round bleeding light

Elysium, withheld from mortal touch,

may keep her secrets safe for one more night

But through the stitches shimmering light bleeds out:

an emerald goddess dances on the wind

She rests her radiant wings on shining clouds,

and colors windy rivers where she swims

The hymns of bowing willows call me forth

to praise the great Aurora of the north