Her Hair
Her hair
fell, entwined tresses
down the length of her back,
down past her knees.
Morning sunlight found it
and nested there;
I was at a window
entranced.
It was just a moment,
an interval in the journey of clouds;
it was not yesterday,
nor even twenty years ago
Today I stopped to admire patterns
of run-off water on the strand;
the hair of Celtic goddesses
as will be remembered in stone.
