Blossom Child

She was a baby:

Sweet like gum candy;

Soft like bird’s feathers.

 

She picked at pink blossoms,

Laughing at beauty,

With the voice of a thousand choirs.

 

She was a child.

She grew like pink blossoms,

And flew with bird’s feathers.

 

Her hands were worked

Like Indian’s feathers

Atop fur and skin head.

 

When her pink blossoms wilted

And feathers had grayed,

Child-Woman grieved.

 

Once, she closed her ocean eyes,

And dreams began to form

Inside minds of pink feathers and Indian blossom.

 

In minds of fantasy and memory,

Woman is turned child,

Child is turned baby.

 

She was a baby

With blossoms in her soft eyes,

And feathers of Lion Hunting in her hair.