The Morning of the Fall,
Eve sprang from her sleep
And sprinted to the lake.
The crescent moon held a  spoon of darkness
Above the warning dawn. Watching, the woods  breathed
Orange and wild lilac and she plunged
And pulled  into the cold depths. Water grasses played on her pendent belly,
Stirred the being within, and as she rose
The sun rose too.
The world was suddenly alight,
Water, trees, even the stars, as they withdrew  in purple,
And she stroked to shore
To lie in the brilliance and listen
To the morning: lapping, sucking, splashing, whistling,
Rustling, roaring, singing…
Her long, black shadow made a path
Flowing over the  rocks and  trunks  before her
As she strode back,
Up into the trees.

Ellen Taylor can be reached at