Muse Poem by Clive Culverhouse

standing naked to a gathered few
but painted white
you danced
flowering, as from a mother's womb,
exact, on them,
your ritual

by standing stones
some sat,
some lounged
in wine, full bodied
your head above all others
I took your eyes as fire,
my start

and minimal movements
weave your work in fingers
and fluttering eyelids
the night forgot its smoky chill
in circles
hissing fire

for thousands of years
I've watched you dance
it's all the land,
the bountiful
your thighs have blossomed
earth to us
season after season

back then the soils seemed young
and the flames were new
we learnt your moves
your songs
all fruit to us
and subtly you dance

if there was a chant, it was soft
in your closed and move-less legs
the floor was kept together
then, in secret, oh my muse,
my muse, you let us in