“The echos on the wind are secrets known only to the wandering free
Spoken only in the forest to the open who can truly see
Her hair, a cascade of moss and leaves
She dances with shadows and whispers back to the trees
A priestess of the woodland
The forest her church only few will understand
She is greeted by roots as soon as she enters
Each knot a prayer for that which keeps her centered
She kneels on mossy altars
And her devotion never falters
The rustling leaves become her psalms
Where better then here to see what’s been made by god
She raises her arms, and lets out a wild call
For the forest is her sanctuary she prays will never fall
Roots entwine her ankles, binding her soul
And the owl hoots the stories of moonlit rites and ancient magic of old
So let her wander, in peace and unafraid
A wild woman rooted to nature’s embrace
Her church, her sacred spot
Where spirits converse, and the circle of life is taught…”
Poem by me…
Photography by
https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Photography-Grounded/1618318/10263687/view
Sasysquatchgirl 