Wind Witch

She doesn't need an umbrella  
  to trace the Wind Witches' route  
  between flooded crevices of page    
      
They were born of a deluge      
  their desert emerald quartz      
  sprouting striped red and purple;    
     
  succulent birth of disturbed soil      
  whose prickly plumage created    
  sirens in barren wastelands    
     
Mercury rises, his molten heat      
  fries floral axils to the bone    
  leaving skeletal thistles bleached    
     
A zephyr snaps immigrant spines    
  rolls brittle bones as carved runes      
  emptying seed from dry wombs--    
      
Their destiny doomed to burn      
  by man and wilderness both    
      
She, too, was born of a torrent;     
  in the torrential she reads      
   by faith the sun will come    
     
Offer her seed to its flame      
    who shall gift it unto a deluge    
     that the cyclic legacy remain      
     
She will wither just the same    
    having fulfilled her destiny    
     tumbling wildly into history;      
     
Doomed always to move    
    through man and wilderness both    
     
~