"Moonlight Tumbling"

[butterflydreaming]

She has wings for this run
and a vessel to fill, empty and fill,
Lunacy, and a lover to chase.

She will go up the moon washed hill
imagining the sweetness of the spring
liquid silver
the lunar light pouring
like his silken kisses, over her face,
her hair, neck, her breasts,
arms, the fingertips of her hands,
in which she might gather
a pale, pearlescent bounty.

She takes the slope, the climb takes her breath,
the steep rise slides away,
eases, returns,
On hands and knees she takes the last incline,
illuminated in argent,
to its culmination.

From these heights
the view is a circlet of a vast kingdom.
She embraces Old Jack himself;
Willingly, she falls.