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Soap Box Poets

The Sorcerer
by Denise Levertov

Blue-eyed Oberon prances
For joy in winter dusk,
The stars
Are sparks from his deep, cold fur.
Motifs of Samoyed song
Float forth from black lips.

For my part
I want the indoors, hot tea,
Cherry jam. Yet I linger:
Everything
Instant by instant
Intensifies,
Dusk darker, stars wilder.

And Oberon,
Strange-eyed Oberon,
Meets my gaze in stillness
And holds it
Before
He dances homeward,
Dog and shaman.

Submitted by Ruth Baxendale

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