Eve

She waits, in beauty, by the edge of the wood, Like a flower opening in the morning dew; As birds sing merely to be heard, And creepers make a song of their way up the tree. The sun lifts itself under foot As she gathers her dress, adjusting its folds. With careless grace, she stretches her arms wide, Inviting the earth to her heart; and watching, She breathes in this moment: unknowing, It is the breath of acceptance in the still of the dawn.

• Sidney Keyes