She sat in the forest

till leaves fell from her clothing

and the ends of her hair whipped up into vines

her hands rooted themselves to the powdery earth

and she slept like a tree in the winter

the willows grew around her

the years flew by like seconds

the dawning sun of each morning blending into twilight grey

the dew falling on her silvery shoulders

painting the grass and dirt

with starlight

birds nested in the crooks of her elbows

mice nestled in the folds of her eyes

the forest moved subtly

with each passing moment

alive and solemn and still

growing

as only a forest can

the sun danced through the gaps in the leaves

pine-cones fell to the springy earthy ground

the moon gazed upon the night

like a watchman from a tower

noticing each detail as a world of its own

the girl in the forest sat

a living, breathing thing

with a place in creation

of her own

then she awoke

and the scales fell from her eyes

and the binds from her wrists

the gag from her mouth

and she realized what we’ve missed

in the cities

and the suburbs

and the computerized

robotified 

lives we lead.