d.l.g.

there's a woman as old and bright as the stars
whose wild hair looks different every day
a woman whose bare arms and legs dance and lengthen, toeing a rhythm,
leading the rest of us to hear her beat and melody, to hear our song

this woman rose up out of rocky mountains
she came west and dressed us in joy
and a certain boy is not quite not over her
but this woman is wise and patient, brave and hopeful
she hears a voice saying
wait,
be still,
come near

and she knows this is a season of new songs

and if i know anything,
it's that her brightness only gets brighter