The wind is soft again. 

It moves its bow against my neck, 

and I hear my body cry the most gorgeous sound. 

Then we are two darlings, holding each other with both hands

And I am rolling in the grass, tearful 

Glad because Spring has again chosen my body to chirp its music. 

And with such softness

And attention to detail. 

What profound love!

I am no longer a skull of ghosts; 

I glow from every socket. 

“Come, come! 

Pour, pour!” 

I am dewed, and tuned, and soft. 

A humming, anointed body

Silly and sweet with love.