I walk up the hill
in cold rain,
aware of slipping on ice,
and the hill rises to greet me,
its sensual curves
extending the field of my belly.
I do not often walk
this low to the ground;
usually it is sky song
filling my head.
This is a greeting
more than lovers
or mother-love
or even planet-awe.
I have been afraid
of this meeting,
worried that the edges will blur
until I am consort to the world,
or flat-faced pressed
on the icy road
beyond retrieval.
But as the rain falls,
warming ice and making more,
washing to reveal,
I feel love call
and am so grateful
my body can answer.