In the dark, the cough
of a mother bear
is heard. Artemis is there,
Her hand resting on her side,
a cub in Her lap, soft black fur
in the dark.

In the dark, the squeaking
of bats is heard. Artemis
burns away the fungus from their bodies,
clears their noses of white,
gives them life in the dark. 

In the dark, there is the sound
of a woman screaming, and Artemis prowls
on cat-light feet through the night,
accompanied by the black panther
of the Appalachian mountains,
deadly quiet in the dark.

Myth calls to myth, so the panther
came to Her side, so the creatures
never seen surround Her. She is secrecy
as She is illumination; she loves the dark
as fondly as the light.