She

There’s nothing more that she loves to do than walking

Walking to the store, to the edge of the beach, to the water  

She loves wading in the water, waiting for something to come, something to happen  

As she walks to the store while wading in the water, she likes to sing a little song  

She sings about the birds in the trees, the minnows, the crows  

She sings about the clouds, looking like cotton balls that have been torn apart and molded back together

She sings about the sound she makes when she walks, when she wades, when she watches  

And then, at the end of the day, that same silly girl wonders home

Greets her family with a smile

Tucks her little self into her little bed

And dreams happy dreams

“Until tomorrow,” she knows

Good night