"The Firebird" part 1

Invocation.

If there is something in me that loves poetry
I wish you would come to me
And whisper now into my ear
The words of this poem

For truly I do not know them
They are strange to me
As everything I write is strange
Strange as a child becomes to his mother

Still there is love
Still I wish my children would go out
With success into the world
But I know them too well

I wish that voice would whisper to me
Concerning Felicity the immortal Firebird
How she breaks the wild Leviathan
Struggling with him
Finally bridling him securely
And mounting with spurs upon his back
She begins to ride him and bid him do her will

But these are facts
What I am interested in
Is myth:

In her mythological life
The Firebird is prismadically plumed
With luminescent feathers and crystalline eyes
Such that one captured feather
Will brighten an entire castle hall

For to us she is an object of beauty and magic
Something perhaps to be captured and possessed
But not known

And what magic she would give to the man
Who could possess her
What power.

Part 1.

One day in the ancient present
Ivan the young and beautiful prince of Russia
Sleepily lounged in the pleasant summertime
In the courtyard where a tree of silver apples grew

Ivan the prince of Russia
Cared more than anything in the world
About his apple tree
He carefully pruned it and daily numbered its apples

This species of apples was known in southern Europe
In ancient times but here it appears
That silver apples were also known in Russia
In some remote yet contemporary century

This tree of mysterious origin
Cultivated in Ivan's courtyard
Contained apples of the densest silver
Falling with severity on any who may be passing beneath

And it happened one afternoon
In summertime when the dogwood seeds
Drift in pleasant sunshine
That Ivan awoke drowsily from a nap

Through the haze and stillness of the air
Ivan apprehended the magical firebird
For the first time he glimpsed her radiant plumage
Beneath his silver apple tree

Apparently attracted to his silver apples
The silent bird stood motionless
As if aware of being watched
The prismadically plumed firebird
Oped one black crystal eye wide in surveillance

Ivan, not wanting to alert the brilliant bird
Closed his eyes and pretended to be dreaming
But when he again opened them she was gone
Having taken one of his apples with her

Instead of being saddened at the missing apple
Ivan found himself smiling with wonder
Flattered that the firebird
Who is known as a very rare creature
Of magnificent power, beauty and intelligence
Had graced his courtyard choosing his particular apples

That night Ivan kept intent watch on the balcony
Overlooking the garden. A partial moon cast
Silver light and a nightingale sang spooky music
The heavy odor of lilacs perfumed the wakeful Ivan
As he meditated breathing deeply in perfect stillness

With a wing beat the Firebird appears
Alighting beneath the tree
The Silver apples strain the branches downward
As if magnetized to the bird's plumage
One ripe apple breaks away and flies to her

Vaulting off the balcony and onto the garden wall
Ivan skillfully maneuvers to cutoff her retreat
Confronting her with the guilty theft of his apples
Admonishing her in wrathful tones
He pins her shoulders against the tree

But at that moment the nearest apple breaks away
From its branch and neatly dollops the prince about the head
Wounding him and knocking him unconscious
While he bleeds he clutches a single translucent feather