And here it is, moonlight again; we’ve bathed in the river

and are sweet and wholesome once more.

We kneel side-by-side in the sand;

we worship each other in whispers.

But the inner parts remember the fermenting hay,

the comfortable odor of dung, the animal incense,

and passion, its bloody labor

its birth and rebirth and decay.

from Semele Recycled, Carolyn Kizer