My feet sank into the wet lawn,
my toes into the mud.
Such a relief:
and my soles drank the water.
I stood there
swayed by the wind but not by wanting,
and the tips of my fingers tickled;
just the budding of leaves,
the slough of flesh, the bones
more slender all the time,
long whips that swished the sky.
and my toes finding their slow way
into softnesses you can't imagine
in your animal hurry. Oh,
the sweetness of the rain! And the wind
of heaven in my hair.