aerial in moonlight

she stands on the lip of the cliff
under a argent moon the size of a planet
lending a light . . .
painting the valley below in a pale pewter hue

shadow trees covering the valley
winter-barren even at this distance
black lightning bolts forking up to a wintertide night sky

she turns
her eyes flash in the wane light
a ghost smile plays across her aspect
i shiver
not from the cold

the wind comes up from the valley
she lifts her hand
extending her arm
she opens her hand allowing the wind through her fingers
as i watch
she plays the wind like a pet
but she does not restrain it
it runs free
to re-join again the ocean of sky

she leans back
and her face is filled with the
an infinite sea above the world
turning and flowing
ebbing and flowing
the rhythm of the breathing belly of Nyx
bejeweled by ten thousand flecks of silver
diamonds on jet velvet

she reaches . . .

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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