Poetry: Blossoming River

She

                 

She smelled of

Foreign spices and rain

She is mother and maiden

Rich earth

And hollow nest

Heart all a flutter

Sun she is not

But moon moon moon

She falters not

in step but word

Unkept

She is free

Free free freedom is she

Cold her soul may be

But warm is her touch

Soft are the words

They fall from her lips

Honey too sweet

But it heals too

She fights

Demons fall

At her feet

In harmony

And death.