Eighteen. The rolling green. With my Gravity Queen.

On the last doorstep before green, I stand.

The mossy carpet rolls and ripples to the very jamb.

From away.  Away.

These three have seen me, shepherded me,

sung me, into their house of home.

How long I have slept the sleep I do not know.

We awaken, four, in muslin robes.

Hands, sleeves, embraces long.

And now, the morning vista seen,

I swell with desire for the rolling green.

Our woman, our Queen

encircles my waist

and we float.

She laughs a hearty laugh, and lets go.

I have been touched, and I move through the airs with her.

I anticipate.  I know…

every blade, every knoll, what comes next, what might be at the end.

Our muslins flapping, our hands entwined, we smile to each other.

Me and my Auntie Gravity.

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