nature poem

in your flight
better than granite
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
the agony of having too much power
god
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
which keeps
out of me unworthy and unknown
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
they ask me where i've been
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
i've won the race