Autumnal Poem #2 - Magma Borne Woman

A poem for my friend, Lauren.

She is a woman of letters. She is a woman of science. She is a woman of the wild places.  All of these things and all at once.

I promised her an Autumnal poem, and here it is.  As always, poorly composed, written in earnest.

Magma Borne Woman

She sees the rock and hears magma and ancient seas

She sees the rock and feels the challenge to scale its heights

She sees the mountain and watches plates collide, fold and move

She sees the mountain and hears the pine-scented wind

She sees the tree and calls it by name

She sees the tree and embraces under its shade

She sees the dying flower and knows when it will return

She sees the dying flower and breathes in the lingering scent

She sees the wild places and their place in the cycle of all things

She sees the wild places and feels their rhythm and beauty

She sees all this and at times

Weeps with joy
Smiles with gratitude
And holds fast the mysteries
Of the things
She cannot see.