The great red dragon
Came careening out of the sky,
The fiery bellows of its furnace
Quenched by the arrows
Through its breast.

The Laughing Boy looked
To the warrior:

"Do you see what you've done?"

Uncomprehending,
The warrior, called Misrule,
Looked upon the body
Of the fallen beast
But laid down
His Seven Arrows of War.

The Laughing Boy
Picked them up.
Planting the Seven Arrows
In the barren earth,
He nourished them
With the dragon's blood.

Misrule was distracted
By the sound of mirth
Arising from beyond the hills.
And the sounds of water
Rushing, so incongruous
In this wasteland.

While the Laughing Boy
Worked his magic,
Misrule climbed the rise
To find the source of these sounds.

First he saw the river
Mighty and rushing
Running where no river
Had run before.

And the the three figures
That seemed to be leading
The river, coaxing it
To defy Gravity
As they climbed the hill.

Dancing in the lead
A Maiden came
Chased by rivulets of leaping blue.
Behind, heavy with child,
Came a Lady
Wading in cerulean streams.

Bent with age
But holding back the torrents
Of the mystical waters
Came a withered crone
Leading the river
up the rise.

Turning back to the Laughing Boy
Misrule questioned with his eyes,
But the Boy was busy at his work.

The Maiden crested the hill
To curtsey to Misrule
And steal a giggling kiss
Before dancing on down
Pulling the Laughing Boy
To his feet and into the dance.

The waters leapt about their legs
As if joining in the dance --
Lending even more mystery
To these waters that defied the Laws.

Next came the Mother,
And though Misrule
Attempted to aid her descent,
She waved him off with a cheery smile
Before lifting her skirts
As the water swirled now
Over her ankles.

So down to help the Aged Crone
Went Misrule,
The lower waters having risen
To tangle her skirts about her knees.

Once to the top,
They stepped aside
And the waters, sighting their desitnation,
Raced down the hill,
Carving a channel for their future.

The Laughing Boy and the Maiden
Danced through new shoots
And saplings sprung up
In the blink of an eye.

Spots and sprouts of green
Amidst the wastes where nothing
Had grown for millennia.

The Mother stopped to rest
And a tree grew to give her shade,
The Crone coaxing Misrule to join her repose.

Soon the river was streaming by
To some uncharted destination
And a grove of trees had grown,
Plants and wildflowers of every imagining.

The Laughing Boy and the Maiden
Built an arbor from the dragon's bones
And lay together in that leafy enclave
Starting the cycle anew.

Misrule sat by the river's edge,
Staring into the pools and eddies --
He caught his reflection there.

What he saw in his own eyes,
He never said.
But he laid down his sword and lance
And stripped the armor from his body;
Clothed only in Nature's Bounty
He disappeared into the trees.

Sometimes, they say, he can be seen
When the stars are right
And the moon is full,
Peering out from behind a leafy mask,
A green man now
In that Garden of Peace
Sprung from Seven Arrows.

Dedicated to Judy, of Seven Arrows Herb Farm, on the Fiftieth Anniversay of her Birth, with love and gratitude.