I Write

Standing on the edge of the lake
The wind swirls and carries wisps of water
Up into the sky
A woman stands at edge
Her gaze holding firm
Her concentration holds
Draws the water up
Funneling it higher
With her hands
She draws them out
And the water moves
Like a wall it gathers
Then reforms
And dances back to the surface
Like a curtain of shear
Lace like delight.
The woman smiles
Lowers her hands
And returns to the forest
Where the trees bow
And the wind whispers
Her name...
Aria

This piece won The Writer's Cramp on December 7, 2014

** Image ID #1855238 Unavailable **