• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 12
Image by

Sun woman

Sun woman,
the moon shining in her face,
walking on corn shucks,
barley-stalked,

brings the rain,
pours it free
and streaming
from fruitful hands.

Nothing, she asks,
only a song from every bird
and the silent thanks
of mice.

You, I, the world,
sigh in her embrace,
flowers spring in the pools
of her fiery footprints,

and the sky beams,
blue as radiance,
silver as fish scales,
in the arc of her enfolding arms.

1