The fog lifts, revealing solitary stalks coated in dew, new white ruffles draped over sleek green stems grazing the grass like a wedding gown,
Slow tumult, then tumbling with the river’s currents, eels darkening remainders of daylight, the snapping turtle sequestering its own swamp of sorrows, damselflies–hyacinth needles
“…if thou subdue the thunders to a tone of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, love-rippling features of the river at thy feet.” Kalidasa
Wired up to the lie detector, I confess: I lied that goddesses need magic accessories that makeup deepens the glance and the clothes reveal