Cindy Shearer

She dressed herself in gingham blue
and tied a scarf around her long hair.
She took her clothes down to the river
past the chickens in the sunshine.
She placed her basket on a boulder
and knelt down on the grassy bank.
Her feet were bare inside the softness;
Her soles were upturned to the sun.
She took a white gown from the basket,
turned and glanced into the river --
a restless mirror rippling by.
She saw a woman there reflected
twice as pretty as the day,
But she cried into the wildness
and dipped her gown into its coldness.