The Gift of Hera

*kinnu*

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In an unbroken line
the heirs of Herakles
harvest their golden trees
and splice the fruitful vine.

Today I play my part.
Paring an apple graft,
I hone an ancient craft
half science and half art.

With an impartial knife
I notch and interlock
host wood and scion stock,
marrying them for life

just as I marry rhymes
and rhythms into lines,
borrowing my designs
from other minds and times.

But where would Virgil be
had Homer not retold
a tale already old
learned at his father's knee?
 
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