In the dream, there
was one for each brother—
five stripes
winding down the forest tree
to sink below
earth in the cold night, where ten
feet twisted
among roots and rustling ants,
browns mixed
with segmented whites.
Above ground, knees
knocked elbows, red
and blue tangled
with orange and purple,
bruised blooms
of a restless night in struggle
to perch. Bodies
attached to the trunk like frogs—
the brief hold
before inevitable
parting. And at
treetop, there was hair
mixed blue and
green in effusion of blossom
and leaf, a
canopy against sun and rain
to protect and
coddle evolving mortals,
a cocoon for
colors to grow ring by ring.
The tallest
brothers woke to the skies,
to the gold of
sun and chariot, horses
impatient to
carry them. It was their time
to choose. They
leaped into waiting arms
of Isis, goddess
of magic and life.