the mid-morning fog
cloaks the traveler
in a thick mist
a musk of weather-beaten
leather cloaks soft skin
a fragrant vagrant
wandering in the warmth
of a dawning star

she stops and
stares now and
again
a lingering smile on
her face, her eyes
twinkling with equal parts
mischief and grace

an exuberant jubilee of
far-flung soliloquies
enhance her reddened hair
and her rosy cheeks
as she slips quietly
through the cobbled streets

until a flower
small but fair
pokes its way through a
crack
she stoops and ponders
for a moment
whether she might take it

then climbs once more
to hardened feet as
a smile tugs at her cheeks
she leaves the flower
in peace not
in pieces
who knows
who might need it

still she sojourns on
a wayward adventurer
with no destination
save the secret joy of
knowing and being known
by a world she adores