life had woven this being
almost mortal, her body
notched sticks and parchment
arthritic from digging in the dirt
she hung, dripping garments to dry
tired appendages reaching
upward her rigid hands
were lost maps of patience
*
a lonesome girl in the woods,
she knew each path to take
deciphering the language of birds
they swooped down to greet her
the messages of ancient trees
they bowed, murmuring wisdom
she dreamed as a gentle pixie
who frolicked beneath the ferns
© november 2011 heather brager
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