I have watched this girl for a while now,

she is becoming more like the trees she loves

so much, every time my eyes catch her tiny

frame wondering through the bush, her skin

etched with wonder lines her hair mattered like

branches, the sun dulling her to an earthy brown

the rain leaving river beds in the country of her body,

the seas tide marks wander up her legs, salt crystals

cling to the soft down on her legs. she has become the

ebb and flow of an old memory, a spirit of land.

-s.j.duncan-