Mistress of the woods and keeper of what’s real.

Nov 04, 2022

∙ Paid

She lives at the end

of a dead-end road,

high above the valley

on the edge

of a redwood grove.

She’s an herbalist

a naturalist, and

a devoted believer

in all

that she practices.

Her eyes are piercing,

bright and blue,

warm, open, and loving,

but they cut quickly through

nonsense and dishonesty.

Her hair spills down

over her broad shoulders

in long, soft wavey strands

the color of dewy moist

coastal redwood bark.

The hills behind her house

are steep and alive

with herbs and roots and

mushrooms and moss,

all at her fingertips.

She forages daily,

barefoot in the woods

with her toes gripping

the soft earth of the understory

that nourishes her and the hillside.

The plants speak to her

and she to them,

tacitly, tactilely

exchanging energy

and intentions.

Thoughts flow through her

as gently and easily as the hilltop breeze

gives sway…

34MAG