The ground appears
to have been
bathed, in milk — liquid light
coming down, in buckets
she does that.
once a month,
she reveals herself.
I went for a walk this morning,
without any clothes.
And this pissed off a heron, who squawked and honked off, over the water…gliding away, I could hear the wings,
imagining the moisture, rippling from her.
Like a bracelet of sound, beneath…
I lit some candles at the cairns and came back in, skin bristling with cold.
Exquisite exposures, to sense.