She’s growing. A stainless sprite, dutifully chasing her rainbows

Darting over like a fawn, picking her clovers

Her oblivious white bloomers peeking

Her quick laughs lifting over the air as if stolen

Flashes of her sapphire-eyed sparkle dulling to dusk

Her tormenter waiting with a pot of gold

Her mother’s wind chimes tinkling

She grew. And is waiting for her bus, detaching

Aware she’s both everywhere and nowhere at all

On bottles and papers and screens and magazines

Seeing herself only as a keyhole

A shape, misled by geometry, misunderstood like a Georgia O’Keefe

Somehow, a horse becomes her, her mane untamable

Her mother’s wind chimes tinkling

She is grown. And is working overtime, observing and avoiding

But nature is never silent, she is finding

The beasts roam everywhere, the world is full

So she is going to marry a cub

She will be blissful until she realizes she’s devouring him

And will be unable to flee from her own demons

Her mother’s wind chimes tinkling