The Garden of Hesperides
written by: Dawn Pisturino
Mount Olympus roars with delight.
A marriage made with all in sight:
Zeus and Hera heavenly bound
With gods and goddesses around,
Fair witness to a union sealed,
A brand-new story now revealed
For generations yet to come
Who gather ’round the harvest home.
A feast so rich—beyond compare—
And flasks of wine for all who dare
To revel in the couple’s joy,
The bridal party’s subtle ploy
To make the wedding gifts appear
As if by magic from thin air,
Earth’s bounties brought by friend and foe
Upon the couple to bestow.
Cattle here, and bullocks snorting,
Piglets, geese, and peacocks courting.
Flowers, delicate and blooming,
Freshly cut, the air perfuming.
Pomegranates, plump and juicy,
Grapes and peaches, fat and rosy.
Gaia strides in, haughty and bold,
Carrying branches ripe with gold.
She lays her gift at Hera’s feet.
The wedding party, now complete,
Hera claps her hands for silence.
Nobody dares to give offense.
Her temper tantrums are well-known
To every man, god, and clown.
She gently lifts a branch to see
The golden apples hanging free.
“Call in the Daughters of the West —
Three maidens of the evening, dressed
In brilliant colors, red and gold,
To bear these branches and unfold
A wondrous orchard of my own,
Protected by these maidens, known
For singing softy when the sun
Begins to set when day is done.”
Aigle, draped in drooping willow,
Answers Hera’s call to follow
Erytheia and Hespera
To Mount Olympus, bearing a
Reed basket for the sacred task.
Erytheia, in feathered mask,
Transports flasks of bountiful wine,
Freshly pressed from Queen Hera’s vine.
Hespera, adorned with amber,
Wears a robe of earthy umber,
Swearing oath to goddess Gaia
To protect the fruit of Hera.
Hera greets the fertile threesome
With a warning stern and fearsome.
“When I visit in the summer,
Apple trees shall grow in number.”
The maidens took their task to heart
And planted seedlings as a start
That flourished into shady lanes
Of golden apple trees. The rains
Replenished soil and brought the bees.
When Hera walked beneath her trees,
Her golden apples bobbed and bowed.
She knew Hesperides had vowed
To keep her garden green and grown,
A pleasant orchard of renown,
Guarded by a fearsome dragon
Known as hundred-headed Ladon.
Pleased with Hera’s strong approval,
They transformed their old apparel
Into shimmering shades of red,
Yellow, orange, and purple, bled
From Helios’s daily run
Across the heavens, when the sun
Descends beneath horizons far,
Before the first emerging star
Twinkles in the darkening sky
And ushers in a lullaby
Sweetly sung by minstrel maidens
Tending Hesperides’ gardens.
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