She Is

I think at last that as she is

Such a one consistent to exist

From within how nature does select

The seas with rolling temperament

And with ease that wind can only match

Such gliding figures as a river whisp

Neath chaotic willows wavering dress

Her flowers grew out of random grass

Like starlight cold yet burning fast

Still hot as coals beneath stoked ash

She is none and yet most all of this

For a woman is my opposite