Morning

Naked, you are simple as one of your hands,

smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round:

you have moon-lines, apple-pathways:

naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;

you have vines and stars in your hair;

naked, you are spacious and yellow

as summer in a golden church.

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails-

curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born

and you withdraw to the underground world,

as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:

your clear light dims, gets dressed - drops its leaves-

and becomes a naked hand again