Cleansing Night

She sits under
the moon’s white light,
the stars asleep
beneath the fog.
Her eyes search deep
into the night,
her lips release
a midnight song.
 
She sits upon
a wall of stone,
her fingers twined
in tender moss.
The dampness seeps
into her bones,
the swinging bottle
wets her lips.
 
There she stays
in filtered light
scattered on
the forest floor.
What she looks for
she’s not sure,
but darkness does not
judge her song.
 
The light acts as
a cleansing bath;
baptismal font
drips through the trees.
Here is comfort-
true release-
her midnight song
that brings her peace.