Daughter of the Wild
She loves the forest,
where the giants stand guard protecting her,
shielding her from the world of busy streets and pollution.
She knows lightning bugs are stars flying down to visit.
Gently she captures them in a Ball mason jar,
temporarily holding starlight.
Pixies emerge when her exhales send them flying from the dandelion stalk,
floating free in the field of lavender.
The only blades in this place are the ones that tickle her toes as she dances below the weepy willow,
that will never judge her tears.
The babbling brook tells her
tales of the deep cerulean sea,
where it longs to be salty to the tongue,
but free to roam into the sunset.
The trailing vines use thier tendrils to show her how to overcome weakness,
sharing others' strength to rise above the depths they derived from.
The forest isn't a place on Earth,
it is a magical place where her spirit wanders free.
She knows the stories of the mountains,
how they rest from years of reaching for the clouds.
She knows the fruits of the branches,
some to sustain her,
others to bury her amongst the fern and moss.
She's grown with the saplings,
spread her wings like the eagle emerging from the nest.
She knows the devastation brought on to her sanctuary.
With a heavy heart she walks the woods,
taking nothing that isn't needed,
leaving only her tears, and tiny footprints.