Poetry

Witching Hour

Nymph
Photo by Alice Popkorn

Soft rains fell
upon the lagoon
from a night sky
shrouded in clouds

The nymph perched on
the gently sloping bank
trailing her fingers
through wiry reeds

She dipped a toe
in still waters
a cleansing ritual
in the witching hour

Her hair fell
in lank strands
down her bare back
A sapphire at her nape

Rejuvenated by
the musty scent of
wet soils
she danced

She whirled in the moonlight
light of limb
her body a prayer
to the universe

The clouds parted
in deference to her
and still she danced
spinning lilies in her wake

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