her hair as dark as crows
and her lips as red as
her favorite wine

her arms spread to catch the wind
as her long red dress
danced with the ways
the wind blew

her eyes closed
to listen to the melodies
the wind whispered
and the sounds
of the birds high above

her bare feet
touching the dew on the grass
telling her its stories
of the travelers
who once stepped
exactly where she stood