Woman in the Woods
By Myra Lochner
Only trees look at her with transparent irises droppled unto each leaf; fingers of a moss-green fern enfold a chirping dream; her mouth filled with honey forms sprouting words ... She washes her hands in a bowl of milk-white cream and let it dry as second skin; then she returns sanctified while soft voices of the forest-folk murmur about secret paths and free flight and other untreaded regions ... The captured clock again regains it's tick ... tock ... kneeling at the mountainstream she delivers the clear gift to saturate arum lilies and to fertilise riverbanks of tomorrow myraThis is my own voice, my own style Need it be clarified? Written February 17th, 2002 © on Feb 16 2002 05:36 PM PST, Myra Lochner 0 • 10 • 8
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"Only trees look at her..."