flicker

She is moving over grasslands, facing downwards, looking under stones for something precious something known – feels her way by instinct . . . walking as birds do, casting her long shadow, seeing only things of shade . . .
now turns her body to face the sun, shadow also turning, spindly legs their beetle-black, withdraw – until unbidden fade, her own legs cold in rasping grass, she feels (but not enough), the agitated light, now folding in and out of cloud - and soon in stillness stays until, unbidden wind and muttering rain, a sound, no sound, no sooner night unfolding into stars, now out and into cloud, illume, but not enough, the ash grey dove grey sky, and she from stillness turns, by instinct goes – only this roar of nonexisting in her skull and this need to feel the world as
real