Thursday, November 17, 2011

belonging.

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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