In the field

among varied grasses

she waltzed with her palms

brushing the buds bowed in prayer.

The late summer wild flowers

dipped in heated color.

Indian paint brushes

dabbed the sky

on the edges

of towering cumulus.

She lay

down

in embroidery.

They neither toiled

nor spun

around the edges

of her skin.

Sleep planted innocence

once again

and dreams fell on her

like a steady rain.

Beauty forgave

and golden hair

brushed by the breezes

painted the bottomless sky.