brought no bell,
or call-to-arms,
no rush of Prussian
blood to head
the ball into an
empty net, no change
in current sea levels...

no harm befell
the coppiced shoots
of brutal resolutions,
proving atheist
relationships are
worth their weight
to any fool...

and
no-one but
the very best,
would deign
to chance a
second guess
of getting into heaven

on this first day
of the year.

Honey ripples sticky and sweet
Down the pouted edge of my hungry lips
Slurping softly through the mist, my full moon skin feasts on soft, midnight wind
"Shed, shed , shed" whispers in my ear
I listen
Long grass tickling the curves of my dancing thighs
Laughter, raw and true, sings out above the tree tops
I have never felt so free
Someone on the outside would see a wood nymph
Fingers hard digging into dark earth
Then sprinting fast with willow-the-whips kissing my ribcage
Inked arms out, head back
My feet pounding the rhythm of January up into the stars