Goddess

Is that still you, Diana,
Shining down on the countryside?
Your silver light on the trees,
The fields stretching to the manor.

Do you remain renaissance?
Too out of mode for us to know,
Or do you still live with us?
Symbolic frail superhuman.

Weeping tears on the insane,
Pulling the water in the world,
Seas, tears, rivers, sweat and blood.
Impassive in your influence.

Presiding over a frost,
Or vanishing behind a cloud,
Supernatural mistress
Of apparent transformations.

Distorting with full light you
Reveal only two dimensions:
Landscape cut out in cardboard.
Do we mind the shade unsilvered?

Do you still hold the power
You wielded in collective past?
Your name holds fascination,
But the face no longer classic.