Under the stone-paved bridge there knelt,
A dainty lass with blue-gray eyes
--eyes so blue they mocked the skies,
and yet so gray they shamed away,
the storm clouds and their thunder belts.
She reached a fragile hand to stay,
A wild daisy, bedewed and cold,
whose silver petals then turned to gold,
But gold to petal's like rust to metal,
And leeched the daisy's life away.
Then a bullfrog bounded boldly up,
And her oak-brown skin did admire,
But his own marred hide invoked her ire,
So she glared, and he promptly flared,
and into bits of gray-green frog blew up.
Then came the rain, in torrents great,
She ran to the womb of the upward flood,
To dance insanely in the water's blood,
But the rain stopped dead, and the water fled,
She smiled at the earth's dark fate.
A slash of oil stained her face,
Then one and one and one more came,
Till the earth choked upon her shame.
She took a breath and blighted Death,
and then besmirched all earthly place.
And then she cried. Fat, rounded tears,
Fell on blackened ground to undo,
The curse she'd confined the earthlings to,
Then with a grin she banished Sin,
And rebirthed the earth sans the smears.