She climbed to the top of an old pine tree, who straightened with joy at her touch.Ī man and his son rambled through the woods, snapping limbs from sapling trees and trampling larkspur underfoot. Voices, clumsy and ill-defined, not lofty like birdsong or steady like a doe’s murmur. One day, she awoke to strange sounds in the woods. Even the mountain lion tipped his regal head in her direction as he stalked by in search of prey. The chorus of wolves sang her dirges in hollow harmony, hoping to see her smile. The bears told her where to find the sweetest honey. Even the most fearsome creatures were tame in her presence. The woods and the mountainside loved her dearly, knew the sound of her footsteps and the touch of her fingers. She lived a contented life for many years in the little grove. On rainy days when the earth smelled of sky, she wandered down to the mountain lake and swam with the river otters. She raced the coyote pups along dry stream beds. She played with the bluebirds, who taught her to sing. On warm spring evenings, she lay on beds of moss and sweet-smelling fallen leaves. When the nights were cold, she slept beside the fawns, curled up against their spotted backs while their mothers sang lullabies and told stories. She grew strong and fast, and in only a few years she was taller than the saplings that sprouted on the day of her birth. When she cried, the butterflies kissed her cheeks and dried her tears. The forest cared for her, swaddled her in wildflowers and sustained her with birdsong. Her mother was the melody of the mountain stream and her father was the glitter of sunlight through the coin-shaped leaves. She took her first breath in a grove of towering aspen trees, under the shadow of a hummingbird’s wing.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |