Beauty is

bird suspended, waves breaking one

in to another,

hills woven of shoulders, hips, toes,

clouds sliding across blue..

It is not the

must possess, perfect, expensive, mechanical conquest

mine,

but

connection, relationship, tangle of bouncing language, laughter song around the twilighted corner, and

being followed softly home.

How did we confuse it with a thing to buy,

an object to have,

a keeping to be kept by?

She tells her own story,

never upon command, and

if meaning vanishes the crease between our brow,

planting our feet more firmly on this earth,

we are in her Presence, an arrival of moments

passing by at any hour.