Pan Poem by Stan Petrovich

A lilting melody accompanies me
Down the white-rock earthen path-
Played by Pan, half man,
And the air is an arc of rainbow drops,
With the forest smell pervasive,
The tug of gravity pushing my thighs;
The brunch underfoot of my creature company;
He scares me more than a little,
The cleft feet and all;
The rank putrid smell,
But at the town gate he blows a piercing f sharp;
Turns and disappears into the foliage;
Leaving me lonely again.