An early evening
misty and dark,
livid and sparse,
earth's steam arose
from a pond
to court
its voluptuous body.
A slow streak floated
on its surface,
embraced
its dormant limbs with
a stroke of angels,
and unmatched beauty.
Openly,
into the hearts of angry times
Nature slowly unveiled its
worn out mask
secretly,
and went to sleep,
so quietly
as it awaited moonlight
her eternal guardian,
and the fall season,
her renewed hope.
Limbs turned shy
and embraced
the night,
while steam rose
high in the sky
to meet
the clouds
and revisit again
before sunrise.
Said Leghlid, 1998.
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