santos scribes

once upon an end
time tilted
and stood still
gave way
to a ripe, ruby moon
howling to herself
she fell under
found new
and unusual ways
to forget
and remember
at once
sun-drenched leaves
lovely at her feet
seemed to sweep
and whisper
not this
not now
after all
so, she left the wind
to fill her copper-pennied locks
and her tin-scrubbed soul
with earth
and dandelions
and things to consider
why did you come here?
what do you know?
is this it?

yes
yes
yes

a million times
yes