She did not turn away.
The curve of her body
a question mark against
the morning risen
catching the promise
of a new day
upon her lips
and tasting hope.
She lay the sun
on her palm
and gently
blew upon it.
A spray of rays
surged in all directions.
Blinding
defining moments
till all there was
was light.
She wove a midday meal
from whole cloth
and lavender thread
creating delectable’s upon
a spread check rug
resting on the springing
warm grass stalks.
Sour dough
and melting butter on a plate
strawberry jam
a dolloped red yearning
a cold white wine
chill condensation
wandering haphazard
down the glass.
She knelt
curled knees beneath her
allowed the late morning air
to caress
undress
and slowly
turn her to marble.
Draped in wildflower
and tangled weed
speckled in shades
of moss and lichen
the earth
embraced cool stone
caressing
the jut of her chin
swell of calf
arch of neck.
