Fox

I will meet her

in the woods

behind Penelope's house. 

The wind will not so much blow

as drift 

through the branches.

I will be

struck 

by the color of her hair -

peroxide blonde, almost

white. Almost the same as 

the porcelain of her skin.

Her eyes will stop me

from getting too close

the first time. 

The bright green will

cause flash-forwards

of afternoons

spent sitting in 

wind-whispering grass.

She will ask me my name

& I will tell her, because

it will be impossible

not to.

She will nod & walk away.

I will return the next day

& she will be there again, this time

waiting for me as if

we'd planned to meet. She will

let me closer, allow me 

to find the details

of her

self. She will 

wear a sleeve-less 

flowing shirt

& jean shorts with frayed 

edges, both of which will appear worn.

She will not wear 

any shoes or makeup.

She will step in mud & take

no notice. It will not

be of any importance to her.

She will watch my face as it

inspects the angles of her own.

The leaves will make their

rustling noises &

tinge the naturallight green.

It will create a glow

around her & she will give me

a funny look 

for looking at her funny.

She will find a flower

within the clusters of rocks

& she will weave it into 

her hair. It will look as if

it was always meant to be there.

She will turn her back to

me & let me count

the freckles on her shoulder. 

She will wander from the paths, find

us a tree to climb. She will

point to the birds flying 

above us & sit still enough

that a butterfly

will land in the crook of her arm.

She will be 

beautiful, &

she will make me feel again.

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