I live a life of mystery

says the golden vixen

sliding through waving grass,

feeding on the small and furry.

Crepuscular creature,

I am a secret heartbeat,

shadow mover, home unknown.

*

Who named me bleeding heart?

I am the echo of the luna moth,

a winged flower with twisted tail.

Don’t link me to that sad sacrifice.

I can almost fly.

*

I stand in the mud and clay,

says the crone,

to which I will return.

The heart aligns with its eternal image.

As above, so below,

and I, in the middle,

heart rent open,

a conduit for grace.