by Angela Kempe
In summer, she belonged to the sun,
Skin tingling under its nurturing warmth.
In autumn, she ran with the wind,
Hair flailing in crazy knots.
In winter, she succumbed to the rain,
Mourning years passing like rumbling clouds.
Then in spring, she celebrated,
Dancing barefoot on the cool damp earth.
Her heart; imprisoned by the cycling whims of nature.