Below the sky, she saunters
Within the shrubs, she wanders.
Among her herd,
towards the fiery bird.
Into the cave,
beyond the faithiful slave.
Accepting a daisy,
despite being hazy.
Following the slow, winter breeze,
among the trees.
Underneath, she sees
past the dance of a thousand bees.
Below, her downcast eyes did not reflect her mirth,
Unlike her feet, which were planted firmly, in the Earth.