Velvet Grass

She moves, naked,

in the field of tall waving grasses.

The breeze run its fingers 

through her hair.

A haze of purple seed heads

caresses her legs.

She spreads her arms wide

crouches and spins

to feel the kiss of grain

under elbow and wrist.

Licks her finger and rubs spit

around her nipples 

so the wind 

can put its cold lips to her.

Quietly she hums

A lover’s song to herself.

When she comes to the stand of nettles

she puts her coat on,

she isn’t looking for realism.