gray music seeping
like black water through stones,
raw in the line and beat
smelling as bone and fuel,

she crosses the water
a fog, worrying
the river to waves, beating
like a snare against metal bow,
i believe she would sink
if not for the music
and the ****** of a distant god.

within a lowering gray sky
a sun, brighter indescribable, grayer,
penetrates not to gleaming slide,
but her smoky *******,
making her shadowless
and above it all;
song.  

naked, working,  
pushing her mile
upon mile, a commandment,
to become as arresting gear,
quietly succumbing
to her mechanical graces
until the final passing notes.