On the Mercy of the Gods
by Kate Bernadette Benedict
He cleaved unto his “Hera,” she her “Zeus.”
No mortal couple ever loved as well.
The real Zeus took offense and rained abuse.
Shore birds now, they scrounge from shell to shell.
The god of winds took pity on his daughter.
For seven winter days he did not blow
but sent instead a calm over the water
so she might safely nest on sands below.
Impossible that such a scanty stay
of violent surf and storm could be ideal.
Impossible! Faith wavers and gives way.
And yet from where I burn upon the wheel
I look down on that godforbearing bluff
and watch the pale eggs hatch. It was enough.