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Click hereShe is ancient
As a weed-webbed rock
Turning around me in the sun.
She is distant
As the sights I see
Before each day's reality
Begins to run.
Hard-edged
From touching too much.
Too long,
And loving stillness.
Clear eyes
Inside are aching misty distances
And the high desert
And the wind
And I.
She is easy fingered,
Thin-hipped, dark-eyed
And tasting of forever.
She weaves dreams in amber
And my heart in gold
And the high desert
And the wind
And I.