Dark tangled hair
And bright smile
Quick wits
Like those of a fox
Huntress
Soft silence
Thoughtful
Then sweet sarcasm
The wavering cynic
Easy humor
Like coyote
Preistess
Darkling childe
Oh, fallen one
Dusky knowledge
Wisdom unheard
Miserable daydream
Frost-riven soul
Fierce courage
Like a wolf
Queen
As the sun perches upon the horizon and the chill of night creeps over the land, I am cradled in the boughs of my apple tree. The fruit is sweet and rosy-ripe, the leaves are falling in their glory, and the dying light taints skin and bark both golden. The silence is most welcome after the harshness of day.
I have yet to accept the world.
WindChaser
1998