Hippocrene from Santa Ana by Ananga Martin

From a box of Mac’s Pride peaches
I pulled a coral hag stone
Held it up to my eye
Opened my gaze
On a landscape not previously known

This big piece of coal
Is dripping with Hippocrene
Cup my hands beneath the stream
To catch and release
Turn life lines to rivers that flow

The words on my tongue
Don’t feel like my own
And your words in my mouth
Is as close as we’ll ever come
In this shared affinity

Early apparitions
Strung-out between two stalks
As still as the wind permits
Dressed in the mist
And columns of gold through the fog

The rain-soaked wood
Exhales his mornin smoke
With a nod to the lighter sun
For making it strong
And bringing the heat of the day

The words on my tongue
Don’t sound like my own
And your words in my mouth
Is as close as we’ll ever come
In this shared affinity

These moments are small
But in them live all the keys
Little windows to bravery
Thanks be
To the voices blown soft in my ear

These words on my tongue
Don’t feel like my own
And your words in my mouth
Is as close as I’ll ever come
To holding you
And this will do, it will do
In this shared affinity

• Folk
• singer-songwriter
• Wheeling