4 JOANN LORD KOFF SANTORINI DREAMING At dawn, through the morning mist, Ancient muses tiptoe in olive groves. Helios, like a Herculean myth, arises, Sprinkling garlands of yellow rays, On the azure Aegean Sea to tease us. At noon, soaring directly overhead, The Sun God, like a Chihuly chandelier, Is afire in vibrating, scorching heat. I hike down steep volcanic cliffs To sit beside Poseidon at the Red Beach. As the hush of evening encroaches, Turquoise waters, like silk, cradle ships. In a taverna, Aphrodite plays the lute, Atop the caldera, Sappho and I sip ouzo. In dusks’ falling shadows, Plato joins in. At sunset, cooling soft west winds awaken, As an accent to His cosmic undressing; Helios, on winged horse-drawn chariot, Tantalizes, as He soars across the blueness, Shedding His purple cloak to sheer delight. As if finger painting, He colors the sky With honey shades of orange marmalade; Magnifying His blushing, soulful serenity. A soothing golden halo engulfs Him. Genuflecting, Helios flickers, ‘Adieu.’ Waning beneath horizon’s faint ledge, Cobalt seas and lilac heavens converge. Glistening emerald waves bathe shorelines, A deepening amethyst vapor saturates. Above Santorini, the heavens burn. Spontaneously, enthralled travelers applaud; Moon, His sister, rouses bewitching Night, Billions of bright, luminous stars awaken. Orion aligns the constellations to greet, As we dance in the streets, speechless.
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