She wears the night, the weather, like a cloak.
Beneath her shoulders, the snow.
Stars hidden within her hair, her pockets.
Her eyes, sun and moon.
Her feet touch the earth, the sand,
Rivers, streams, and oceans, come behind.
Leaves fall from her fingers,
Rain from her eyes.
She sings the wind,
Songs of ice, year’s end.
Songs of growing, changing green.
Songs of slow nights, grasshoppers
Songs of rust coloured hills.
She comes.
She comes and whispers.
Whispers of silver dreams.
Dreams of elsewhere,
everywhere.
And I take her hand, follow.
Follow in her rain river footsteps.
Follow me, I go with her.
Become her.
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