Emily Winters                                                                                    

Viridescence

She lives in perpetual springtime,

Eyes blind and hands outstretched:

Walking with her face arched towards the sun.

The birds are always in motion;

Frozen in time is no such thing…

She can hear the singing in the trees.

Digging holes for the flowers to nest,

For her flock to make her home…

The petrified ground gives no help,

And her nails chip and crack and bleed as she digs in the dirt.

Plots in the icy ground,

But thawed by the time spring rolls around;

She lives in always viridescence,

With singing and frolics six-feet deep.