In the spring she comes to her favorite place down by the water.
Where the willow trees dip low/and the wind blows her hair/ whipping it around her face.
The daffodils smile in welcome/they have yearned to see her/upon their rising.
For the past winter has been long and harsh/the woman bends to pluck a flower as she brings it closer/ and inhales/the scent of the newly awakening earth.
The sounds of nature permeate the atmosphere
A Robin nearby sings/ cherry, cheer up!
The music wraps itself around her lithesome body/ her heart picks up speed/and drums a staccato beat
Exhilaration soars through her blood.
She is not a traditional beauty/ but here sheltered /in natures sweet bower / she radiates a compelling aura.
Harnessed over time and seasons/ of enlightenment and awareness/ through many varied experiences.
The young green saplings/ dotting the expansive marshland /bow in the breeze.
Paying homage to her serene presence amongst them.
Joszann St. John
Woundedbirdnomore 