Mistress of the woods and keeper of what’s real.
Mistress of the woods and keeper of what’s real.
MISTRESS OF THE WOODS BY RICH MOORE 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 103
She lives at the end
of a dead-end road,
high above the valley
on the edge
of a redwood grove.
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She’s an herbalist
a naturalist, and
a devoted believer
in all
that she practices.
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Her eyes are piercing,
bright and blue,
warm, open, and loving,
but they cut quickly through
nonsense and dishonesty.
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Her hair spills down
over her broad shoulders
in long, soft wavey strands
the color of dewy moist
coastal redwood bark.
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The hills behind her house
are steep and alive
with herbs and roots and
mushrooms and moss,
all at her fingertips.
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She forages daily,
barefoot in the woods
with her toes gripping
the soft earth of the understory
that nourishes her and the hillside.
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The plants speak to her
and she to them,
tacitly, tactilely
exchanging energy
and intentions.
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Thoughts flow through her
as gently and easily as the hilltop breeze
gives sway to the trees
that canopy her home
and absorb the shock of life in the valley below.
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Mistress of the woods
and keep…