In the heart of a hidden clearing she waded, stowed
away beyond the depths of man, save for one witness.
Upon a break from his bow, a scent of rainwater, too
prevailing for worldly senses, brought him to a brilliant
blue grotto. Much more than a single glimpse, he
watched her bathe in moonlight and how stars showered
porcelain skin filled with wine. The misty, moonlight luminescence
stuck on wet locks, hair fanning as she submerged. It lightened
naked skin, the cove shrouded in a fine steam.
The voyeur’s tongue slacked, hedonism and a slash of awe flowing
over, thinking himself a mortal Dionysus. Acoustics of the forest
amplified the pleasure she sought from tense muscles.
It was a play, one that demanded no audience. The
sounds of splashing and the humming in a smooth contralto
made a goddess seem human. Waves of fresh-milled soap
and damp earth spiced with jasmine and myrrh drifted
through the forest. She emerged pink and soft,
bare limbs glistening as small feet touched the ground
and made flowers sprout. Breasts hidden under raven
hair, droplets hanging from flesh like diamonds.
Her perfect form, a distraction from contorting lips
and a beastly snarl.