Flowers In Her Hair

I felt it, across the meadow, that night still and heavy
with the weight of summer passing and fading.
But autumn was a ways off, and she,
my heart’s other half and best adventurer
thru books and songs and boats and things
had sent that shock electric from her to me
and it hit my gut hard, and squashed me like a grape.

I groaned, and ran to that splintery brown split rail fence
and called quiet into winds, and stars, and night falling hard.
But there was just silence and crickety warm ups,
and that throb where she was…
on the other end of me.

I didn’t sleep that nite, in fact I stayed awake all night
as the planets spun and galaxies lurched…
I talked…I talked to my heart-half about how pirates
could never stop us, wild indians couldn’t catch us,
outlaws couldn’t hold us, because
us.

The next morning, I went out to the red barn
weathered and welcoming me with age and
horsey homey hearths, with hay and smells of freedom.
I found my lil grey pony, “Charlie-girl” and I curried her careful
and braided her hair, and told her secret things
about my heart-half and her hurts.

I pleated flowers in her hair, and garlands round her neck, and sent her
lickity split through the barely not scary forest path
til she was standing

there

waiting for my heart to rise, to see her miracle waiting
to carry her home and away from hurt
to ride always with flowers in her hair.

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3 thoughts on “Flowers In Her Hair

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