Before she moved to the farm,
She did not know whether she was made more of
Daisies and dreams
Or mystery and moss…
Or perhaps mostly of midnight and memories.

She came to the farm so that she could sprinkle radish seeds on cool soil
And then pull them up a few weeks later with the joy of a child opening a gift,
And then roast them slowly and stir them into a soup to feed to her loved ones.

She came to the farm so that she could sing native water songs
To friendly chickens as she fed them.

She came so that, when the world became too tangled and complex,
She could walk through the quiet forest and slowly unravel
Then sit un-moving on a sun-dappled slope
And listen as the wind whispered endearments to the Earth.

After a while, she realized that she was made of
Much more than just daisies and dreams;
She was an elemental,
Undefinable,
Sweetness
In the song that Life sings.

 

Aisling blogs and writes poetry at The Quiet Country House