Goldilocks

As the first woman to walk upon the new Earth,
she feels it duty to feel each drop of dew
between the skin of her toes.
The new sun, twice as swollen as the old
(as if to warn her about the equilibrium
of this borrowed warmth), makes liquid rise
above the titanic shoulders
of the horizon and diffuses sulphur yellow
into the green canvas-sky.
She slowly inhales oxygen from with
the breathing leaves of the trees.
The new atmosphere tastes
a bittersweet: promise
with the pessimism of history.