Nude woman

There was a nude woman
at the top of the hill,
and I would go and spy on
her as she gardened
without clothes like Eve
before the terrible Fall.

I loved to watch her with
my innocent eyes and see
her ageing body move with
such poise, such freedom,
without care, for she was
alone for all she knew.

And she tended her garden
filled with such colours and
delights, and she ate from all
the plants who were her
intimate friends, and she laid
among them, taking in the sun
and bathing in beauty among
all her creation, for it was good.

The nude woman would often
dance, moving and swaying
with such grace, and I painted
her picture in my mind to take
it with me to the hard places
of my boyhood days and bring it
out as an antidote when I needed
good reason just to live, to survive.

So I returned and returned and
watched and watched, and I craved
her world for it was not lost,
and one day she spied me among
the trees but cover herself she
did not, and instead she dressed
herself with a smile for there was
no Adam and no snake and this was
the life she had made just for herself.