Like a wildflower

Tilt your head back

the way a wise woman laughs 

guffaw

and the arch of her back.

Stand on your tiptoes and roots, 

rigid and soft,

like a ballerina 

turning of lace and points.

Open your pores up- 

your honey comb, 

concaved to capture.

A thirsty, thirsty rose,

you are.

Cry out to the sun

in all your silent strength.

Sway in the rain.

Thrive, you will 

like a wildflower:

subtle and fierce 

rooted and free,

chanting on a prairie 

in something like a whisper

woven into a little girl's 

braid ...and me

oh, how to be.