branches stretch,
in ebony night, jeweled
with beads of rain,
glinting, like liquid fireflies.

retiring, to bed she sees
twigs contort, to clasp
beads
tears gravitate, from crooked
arms
silver cascades, through ravines
carved in cragged
branches.

rain murmurs her to sleep
a voice of honey
lullabies, as she dreams,
of pearls
splattering on ochre skin
trickling, through arches
of her cragged
limbs.

wooden strands, graze
crystals slip
from bark, fingertips
melody dissolves into a
whisper
rain’s decrescendo
begins, to wake her.

her course skin, bristles
waiting, for descending
beads.
her fingers graze, for
diamonds
to jewel their flesh,
arid rings.

her arms stretch,
in ebony night, to clutch glass
marbles.


her fingers horizon,
to drink sweet ,waters
as branches become,
crystaled.

her arms tingle
for rain to seep,
unable to feel,
the quench
of silver
beads.
her fingers stroke
they quiver,
then twinge
at parched flesh
upon her cragged
limbs.