It's Still Life

Corresponding …

with winter’s crone, a solitary
woman – from ink
she’s come

with forest trophies and beads,
silver for ceremonies
she weaves.

And deep in her forest she writes
on curled birch bark.
Words like fish

that swim clear and bright, letters
on curls of white to her love
so dear.

And as she sits on a rug of moss,
she slips back from where
she’s come –

Back to her roots
deep in ink.

PAD (Poem-a-Day Challenge) Day 3 with Prompt: “write a correspondence poem’
Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.