She sits crosslegged in darkened dunes

Mute silhouette with chisel in hand

Tapping at her granite womb, eggs grains of sand

Obsidian thoughts, malachite memories

Garnetsforblood,  a geode soul

Yours for the breaking and the taking.

 

The temple of sorrows she built is falling

falling is fearsome and lonely but

She wants flower thoughts now

Like the wildish ones growing in grassy dunes

Calling creeping ivy up her spine, twining about her neck

Orchids unfold in her lap

Poppies for eggs, rose petal memories,

Honeysuckle bleeding, blackberries with thorns in her soul

Stone and succulent vie for her life on the sand.

She takes root and waits knowing the word is at hand,

And she is

Beautiful in the eye of the honeybee.