 |
by Karla Linn Merrifield Lately the lady in her lichen gown follows cumulus clouds beyond the woods by moonlight out and over to the line water makes in the Earth. She will undress there on the beach in that silver, stand naked in the wind like birch trees in early April. It is what the Rose Moon would have her do: leave the land, learn the sea, go dancing draped in kelp and if she dare, when she dares dive in, dive down, dwell with the creatures of the deep. Thus she will forsake the forest, shed the leaves and needles' familiar shade to partake of the great oceanic gyre. Now is the time; she will be done.
|
