She Is

She Is

She is

a crisp winter morning;

the sun just rising;

the calm silence

ethereal

and still.


She is

the smell of fresh-baked bread

and a cheerful ‘welcome home’

sung in breast-warming trill.


She is

the embrace of a friend

who’s been away

far too long.


She is

the deeper meaning

in a subtle glance

and a note

struck just wrong.


She is

the quiet defiance

of a single candle

fending off the dark.


She is the strength

of the sturdy mountains and

the gentleness of snow

whose touch leaves no mark.


She is the hope

that bolsters the wavering courage

of a life half wasted away.


And she is a place to lay your head

when you think you’ve no place to stay.


And some days she is

the little mouse

scampering out in the night,

taking crumbs

and leaving but footprints behind.


She is the songbird

singing prayers to the sky,

of her fate resigned.


She is a crisp winter morning

the sun just rising.


She is the friend

away too long.


She is the deeper meaning,

the quiet defiance,

the calm silence.


She is

ethereal

and still.