Bjørk

A flowing breath
deep rooted in earth,
rising.
A clear Gale
bound in armour,
burst out in green.

Her golden dust
out on the wind,
Free to seed.
Born to fly
amidst the stone.

Standing silver,
crowned in green,
only to be stripped:
her amber veil,
lost before the snows,
when her gale flows.

Her name,
lost in the forest.
Aged out in the wild,
reborn is she
she the one whom
bore,
the forest gain.