I shed condensation from my brown orbs,
coating the world in a sheen -
droplets precipitate,
leaving a bespattered trail behind,
as I ambulate across the meadow.
Above -
(ceci, Je sais)
reflected in my misty sorrows,
shone the incandescence Rhiannon,
damp with her own lamentation -
The winds, with naught but a whisper,
sighed -
"tout est bien, sous la lune pleurant..."

