The Basilisk
Through twinkling forests of treetops, the basilisk rises in all its majesty: an eyeless monarch cloaked in sunlight, it takes the world into account while the verdant regalia beams in low evenings. The celestial pirouetting draws attractions— heroes are woken, even from sleep. The basilisk rushes forward into form, a creature of separation, lurking, a spurt to unleash another darkness, dethroned wisdom that flees without sound, as the beauty surrounding flutters slowly out.
- Marianne Moore