She realized her soul
needed reforestation
her arms hung limp
like wilting lupine
in the twist of summer heat.

She did not know the process,
how to weave ecological change
where to scavenge for seedlings
that would fit safely and snuggly
like the blooming echinacea along the border.  

She searched for flora
linked to the stars in the night sky
juiced with nutrients to support
her journey to engage in an alchemy
of shedding old shag bark in the current of the river.  

First the twinge of loss, uneasy balance
an old, galvanized bucket rusted with memories
about to spill over drenching the earth
pulling forth new growth
teasing each parcel to spin its web in the darkness.  

Casting a net to catch the burdens she shed
along the bank of Dry Fork Creek
corralled away from her consciousness
making room for new trails across
slick rocks cradled in distant promise.  

If she tilted her head back
let the rainwater cascade down her hair
would the bloom of jasmine vines take root
like the deity Anthousa and flow off her shoulders
dripping sweetness