stealthy under a full moon fog blanket.
Drawn out-of-doors by the unseen whispering, the unheard glowing. Like daylight, it is. No one on the lane: no cars, no sound…but for cows, the wind caressing tree, and her breath.
Flowing in and out, in and out, steady like a heart rhythm drum around the fire.
Hair streaming, feet bare, arms waving, she turns herself round and round dancing to the beat of the drum rhythm. Wild. Isn’t that what her Momma said?
“Wild Heathen child who won’t put no shoes on.”
Barefoot running in the night of the soul under the brightness of my Self. Listening. In and out, in and out.
Steady. Like the day I was born.