Morning XXVII
Naked, you are simple as one of your hands, smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round: you
have moon-lines, apple-pathways: naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.
Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba; you have vines and stars in your hair; naked you are spacious and yellow as summer in a golden church.
Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails - curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born and you withdraw to the underground world, as if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores: your clear light dims, gets dressed - drops its leaves - and becomes a naked hand again. --
Pablo Neruda
morning xxvii - pablo neruda
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