He landed on a patch of celandines of yellow heads glimmering in the sun,
The wood pigeons in the pines triumphantly calling a nest was done,
And the rivulet that cuts its way around his feet and to the hollow glen,
Carries his reflection on crystal waters to dance unseen in the towns of men.
Here where the spirit of trees can still be felt by those with the gift to see,
Is a winged man patiently tending the Spartan who he would set down free,
His blood soaked feathers have flown many a league from the battle scenes,
Carrying the only survivor of the fight whose mortal wounds he cleans.
His breath is enough to stir life into the sunburned face of a Greek hero,
The honeycomb lips are sweet when pressed to his as it would appear so,
For with arms about the dying man he fans him with a cooling breeze above,
The warrior half opens his eyes to whisper, "Am I in Elysium my love?".
Muscled arms and chest he bathes the stains of war and soothes sore scars,
Like a cat's purr he talks gently to him to help him stay beneath the stars,
Naked the dying man regains a tiny spark of hope just enough to win life,
And he reaches by instinct for his broken shield and a now missing knife.
Curly golden hair on the winged man like his smile brushed a wind that stirs,
The time for fighting has long passed and strength is all he now confers,
Laying close to imbue him with warmth in the cloak of darkness,
Hearts beat together and their hands like their sinuous bodies they press.
A timid deer comes to spy on them and breathe their secret to Olympus,
Neither has the will to hunt it because every hour now to them is precious,
As the sun rises we find the Spartan wrapped in a soft down of protection,
Wings engulfing his huge frame and by jet black hair the flowers shone.
His body aches from deaths near kiss and the curse of a battle bitterly lost,
Yet here he wakens bare and wanton needing love no matter the cost,
And he strokes the chiseled form like a statue of Icarus that lyes now still,
Succumbing to the drives of man and the needs that shape a determined will.
Skies are aflame and leaves on trees shiver in pleasure as they fall to knees,
Writhing roots like hungry limbs seeking sustenance tremble and seize,
Drinking long and hard until the two sated collapse about a twisted trunk,
The sap is warm and flows more sweetly as a stab of the wood is sunk.
Nothing will be the same for them now they are together starting afresh,
Combining their minds and their plans and wondrous rapture of the flesh,
A male nightingale echoes his salute from the night before heralding joy,
Pale butterflies dance upon the breeze and both feels again as a carefree boy.
Rabbits watch from a pace puzzled by the noise and fuss that humans make,
Along the roughened bark up branches slithers scandalised a snake,
Poppies heads hung low in a manner to give them too late their privacy,
As red as blood from Persian hordes held off by them at Thermopylae.
He remembers Thespians and comrades who fought and died,
A glint in his ice blue eyes is held forever as silent tears he stoically cried,
And fair trimmed beard lightly grazes his face as his lover plants a kiss,
Oh Zeus the irony that all was lost just when a new love was found like this.
Lemon scented grass wafts about them to rouse him from melancholy,
He smiles and feels a hand in his and a gaze of piercing green like holly,
Pricking his conscience to spur him on and they embrace as they rise above,
Biceps straining hard about the waist as he clings on gently tight to his love.
Black carrion see them coming so give them wide berth among the cloud,
Thunder bolts from the Mount miss their target and flash by hot and loud,
Nothing can dampen their fighting spirit as they fly towards island home,
Spartan courage resurges shouting again defiantly, "let them come!".
Good afternoon my read.cash