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Clouds marred the sky that season, and sapped the earth.
The roses did not bloom. He never crossed paths or matched wits
with a green-kirtled girl, brash enough to lay claim to woods and heart,
bright enough to be right on both counts. No,
when teind-time came, there was no one to save him, save himself.
So Tam Lin held tightly through the changes:
he did not know if his “true self” was elf or mortal man,
tree-eyed or true-eyed, bear or lion or burning coal;
but he did not let go of his own hands,
one clutched in the white-knuckled grip of a boy,
one grasped firmly by a hazy, half-formed future.
When he emerged from the water, he shrouded himself in green
and said: I know you, I love you, I’m proud of you, you’re home.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from Summer Farah during our annual Kickstarter.]



R. F. Hovis is a storyteller and scholar of the speculative, the strange, and the scientific. Their poetry is debuting before a broader audience in Strange Horizons after a life of nesting in local publications and friendly ears. Although they lack an online presence, you can always try your luck at finding them by the water under a waning moon.
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4 Nov 2024

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