Pellucid Probity of Hers

Is it the zest of hers,

that dozes under a blanket of innocence;

to seek those pearls every night

or to cast a longer shadow of her light ?

Is it the esprit of hers,

that dwells like lava within a silent rock;

to seek only joy from the wind and the rain

or from the hurt and the pain?

Is it the bracing of hers,

that decks even the sand at the bottom of the sea;

to seek for presents and shout with glee

or for ways to flee?

Is it the affability of hers,

that digs for moments that lack the sun;

to seek for a game trail of the plane

or to simply recognize that you're sane?