opposed to June’s down-slant of light
her smooth arms stretch 
to the endless blue of sky
in her studied stillness
she’s a philosopher of air,
moored loose from the dark matter
of her miraculous roots
she joins the wind’s stir
with her ephemeral breath
with her prolonged exhalation

this tiny island in the creek
is exactly as she wishes
no one hears her daily voice
no one feels her nocturnal skin