The River and the Wind

She is anchored


to this endless plain;


her hair trailing,


the dress a filling sail.


The hills are a half smile


reaching to a purple haze;


the river peels the bank.


She stood for a moment


then reached for the earth.


It blew from her fingers


and she spun and raised


her arms and her voice


became the river and the wind


http://bit.ly/2FRVlxO

Poetry posted here was originally posted on New Zealand Poetry

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