She hears the sea birds cry
She is sitting, facing out across the bay.
The cliff path winds behind her,
rough and stony beneath the pines.
Who is she?
I don’t know.
She is the one inside who dreams,
who carries a vision in her heart, kissed by light,
held in her lap. What will the day bring?
A honing of the writer’s talent in sunlit coves,
or desperate wanderings along the barren cliffs?
She is serene, held in the circling embrace of the bay,
till words rise like gulls on the wing and call to her.
I am a writer and speaker on faith and justice, responding to the prompt from fiveminutefriday, which this week is SHE. You can read other responses here, or follow me to receive new posts.