Weed, moss—weed, root tangled in sand, sea—iris, brittle flower, one petal like a shell is broken,

Each of us like you has died once, has passed through drift of wood—l… cracked and bent and tortured and unbent

Amber husk fluted with gold, fruit on the sand marked with a rich grain, treasure

The light passes from ridge to ridge, from flower to flower— the hepaticas, wide—spread under the light

YOU are as gold as the half—ripe grain that merges to gold again, as white as the white rain that beats through

White, O white face— from disenchanted days wither alike dark rose and fiery bays: no gift within our hands,

O be swift— we have always known you wanted us… We fled inland with our flocks. we pastured them in hollows, cut off from the wind

The mysteries remain, I keep the same cycle of seed—time and of sun and rain; Demeter in the grass,

Bear me to Dictaeus, and to the steep slopes; to the river Erymanthus. I choose spray of dittany, cyperum, frail of flower,

Over and back, the long waves crawl and track the sand with foam; night darkens, and the sea takes on that desperate tone

I saw the first pear as it fell— the honey—seeking, golden—banded, the yellow swarm was not more fleet than I,

I first tasted under Apollo’s lip… love and love sweetness, I, Evadne; my hair is made of crisp violets or hyacinth which the wind combs b…