The Thief of Stones
by Victor Riehl

Villain she of purloined stone
Who skips in dancing light at water’s edge
To gird her garden grandly grown.

She tends her sacred pebbles thrown,
Their endless circles dying in the sedge,
Villain she of purloined stone.

In moaning wind all seeds are sown
So would I emerge, and leave this hedge,
To gird her garden grandly grown.

Unsure enough she must atone
In tribe and nature’s fledge
Villain she of purloined stone.

Like shining water softly shone,
If she were mine I’d to her pledge
And gird her garden grandly grown.

She is the one, had I but known,
Her sacred pebbles from life’s ledge,
Villain she of purloined stone,
So would I gird her garden grandly grown.


My villain she, ma voleuse elle, ma villanelle



 

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