moon bathing

rare as an oriole sighting
late-night soaks
in brightest moonlight
warm steam rising
a delicious seduction

when my fingers
become raisins
when I know time is up
I climb out of the tub
into the nip of sharp chill
wrap in my fleece robe
pull up the hood
to keep the heat close
to claim moonlight’s touch

bathed in its grace
I slide under the covers
offer up prayers
and slip into deep sleep

no one has said so
I haven’t found proof
but that kiss of night
in the tenderest light
marks and heals me

2023 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—not final versions.