Apollo was one of twelve brothers
ranching on the big place at the foot
of the rolling hills they call mountains
in the prairies. He was Zeus’s favourite son
shining
on everything he saw
taking
anything he wanted.
And he wanted her.
Daphne.
Something caught his eye
as she drove by
in her Datsun B210 hatchback
with the racing stripe. He chased her
all over town week after week
but she refused to be taken.
It was like he was a meal already spoiled
before she even started to eat
a table she wouldn’t even sit at
although he kept saving her a seat.
He drove over with the tractor—
the old man’s Steiger Bearcat
with the big blade attached—
to clear the yard that filled in
winter after winter
with snow
but still she blew cold.
He hung back a little after awhile
watched her shoulders settle
the occasional smile
after she looked past his broad shoulders
blocking the sun
and started her work fortifying the yard
from winter, from the land blowing away
with the wind
and him.
When her father returned from his job
working out of town
on rivers and streams
she had dreamed but never seen
he showed her how to plant
a long line of trees—laurel leaf willows
to protect her
from snow and wind
and him
and those fast-growing trees
grew quick like a spell
so the next time Apollo came to the homeplace
to clear it of snow
there was none
and Daphne stood with her father
in the trim and tidy yard
and they both faced him
and told him with one voice
he had no reason to be here
and he could go.