chagall backdrop

I kneel in the field tonight
on cold dry grass
turned straw this late
near winter

The low winds blow by
oddly warm
sing more with a voice
than a whistle

With tales
of the woods surround
where fleet runners
tangle in bramble
detained

Wan moonlight anoints me
with a sword upon my shoulder
declares me a Lady
of magnificent beams

I am free to cross
because I am righteous

I am
a miracle of night

© Chagall 2013