Helios Rests In The Sky, Fond Eyes Gazing Upon The Mortals Below, Baking The World To Shades Of Perfect

Helios rests in the sky, fond eyes gazing upon the mortals below, baking the world to shades of perfect greens and soft browns.

Nyx races overhead, Her starlit body whisking past, with Eos joyfully clinging to Her skirt.

With every storm, Zeus sits in the sky, and hurls down lightning, following it with booming laughs which echo through the lands.

Hera watches weddings go on below, spreading Her blessings among the newlyweds, bringing them peace and prosperity.

Artemis rests in the hollows of mountains, where chilled breezes still blow from streams which have not forgotten the winter's snows. Her skin is dappled with sweat, and Her eyes are greener than the vibrant moss.

Apollon whispers in the ears of mortals, golden sunlight now carrying prophecies in the beams. He takes the hands of mortals and leads them to songwriting and poetry, to painting and music.

Hermes whisks Himself up and down the highways, taking care of the travelers who look for new horizons under the summer's heat.

Messages never seem to still as Iris, bounding up in the aftermath of rain, leaves vibrant rainbow trails behind Her.

Demeter and Persephone slip through Farmer's Markets, carrying more fruits and vegetables and grain than they can reasonably hold. With every fallen fruit, every tomato that squishes a bit, every fallen shaft of wheat, They laugh.

Out on the seashore, Poseidon watches the waves roll in, and the tides go out. The sandcastles left behind by small children are His favorite offerings.

In the mornings, among the waves of birdsong, gentle pipes sound throughout the forests, played by Pan.

And somewhere out in the wilds, both on stony mountain peaks and green riversides, tearing through golden grasses and dancing through firefly-lit forests, is Dionysos. Head thrown back, long hair flowing, teeth bared in joy.