Rain Water and Blood Trees

The infinite patterns can be traced on your hands and in the face. A moon knows only darkness in this vast space and time. What are memories but tiny mostly forgotten recollections. Sad and short standing alone in a puddle with her new shoes soaking up the rainwater.

There is blood in the trees and they spill over with abundance. The cup always full of crimson nature. Walking down the path with the water rushing at my heels, the leaves rushing at my eyes. This time of year haunts me to join the night-fire dances. Lifting my skirt a little higher each time.

Silent

Silent after the rain she came like a wolf in water. Feet as swift as Brother Wind.

The trees are bending low and blushing. Their arms pushing and pulling intertwined between love and wanting. I am the Wood Woman. My eyes full of tears as I view the haphazard unwantings of the humanrace. Thoughtless and easy to forget once it slips from your fingers. You count the steps it takes you to get where you are going. Let it go unforgotten that it isn't the merits you achieve but the journey there. That is what really counts.