I've been in the creative writing mood lately...enjoy!
She lies in the sand,
A hungry soul waiting for the breath of God to stir her awake,
To carry her across the land:
Through the trees, along the rivers, and over the plains;
Through the caverns, along dirt roads, and over the range,
Picking up every bit of goodness until she is completely made
Of green leaves, golden light, and mountain air;
Blue skies, weathered hands, and messy hair;
Turquoise, feathers, dreams, and prayers;
Sweet kisses, sagebrush, and horse hair.
And she runs free, this wild thing
With an affinity for
Old doors, bronc riders, and starry nights;
Glass jars, oil paintings, and black and white photographs;
Folk songs and leather-bound journals filled with looped handwriting in black ink.
And she runs free,
This wild thing.