The bats shrieked as they fled the cavernous dark
driven out by the torches and eerie chants
of the ash-faced acolytes of the Mountain Mother,
carrying bronze shields in her clashing dance.
At their head was a feral God in animal pelts
and crimson skirt, howling in frenzy
and violently shaking the thyrsos.
Beside him his priest beat the tympanum
to guide their stomping feet
and the Mother swayed like a snake
deep in a prophetic trance.
Outside their cave
lightning rent the heavens
and wolves howled
and the Mother began to speak.
