The night
Has added white.
May I say, it is most becoming.

Earth cradles the old woman
Four million year old woman
Skull of holes
And jagged bones that chewed and gnarled
Bones that walked and gathered
Bones that reached and bones that simply sat
Bones that stretched to new life
And withered with the lengthening of the day
Fragments rising
Windswept from oblivion
Beauty shards
Four million year old woman
Me.

How strange this place
Where we have fallen -
In back of the shadows,
This crevice
Where we have fallen 
Alone together.

Old One -
Speak to me of dark gifts,
Of fragile boughs
That bend and break.

Speak to me of brittle bark,
Of sinews tight
That snap and sing
Of precious things.

Speak to me of fields laid bare
Tears and spoilage everywhere.
Turning soil, seed all sown.
Unaware of where is home.

Speak to me of furrows deep
Where promises and stories keep
Summer rains bring pulsing veins…
Old one - Speak to me.

In the wind, it is the frail who dance most wildly.

Hopeful for redemption,
I only tethered hope,
When I caught mystery by the wings
So mystery could not go.

Wonder is not mine to claim
Wonder needs to fly.
So light upon my finger now
I’ll giggle for awhile.

Then with jubilation
I’ll marvel when I see
The wings expand bejeweled
And fly away from me.

From hallowed halls of science
Comes pronouncement of disease
Raging rampant degradation
Plagues our healthy hearty leaves.

Yet atop a tree of wonder
In a more enchanted space
Dare we whisper -
Mystery - magic, turns a beauty leaf to lace?