Hedge Witch

I am the bare and calloused feet who can still feel the touch of the softest feather.

The swirling, mesmerizing colors of a soap bubble on a damp day.

I am the verdant moss, the colorful lichen, beckoning touch.

My eyes see your true identity, I've no use for questioning words.

My heart is a glistening pearl. My tongue ancient stone.

Hot summer nights, dancing around fire, I am the moaning,

and heartbeat on the breeze.

I am each fuzzy hair on your face, illuminated by the beams of moonlight.

Undulating to music, I move my body, a slide guitar, being played by spirits.

When raw gusts of dry heat steal angrily, I am the warm oil carefully poured down, to soothe.

My hands, that can both grip and break the rocks in the ground, also deftly pluck a single petal without a crease to its delicate surface. These hands soften your pain, when others feel like hot irons.

I am the calm harmony sea water, each atom, each organism in its place.

I am the animal who can fool the predator by playing its game,

then darting through water,

no scent to follow.

You cannot tame a woman who can feel the electricity of a coming storm,

who uses it like a drug, an elixir, a power for healing.

Energized, I feel cleansed with each fiber of my being, alive!