The Silent Goddess
By Audrey Howitt
she burns her face in black
bark, etching new stories
on old parchment,
traces birth
death
in the lines around her eyes
they tell the story
of the green man now gone
the lamb left behind
as birds piston inacrid air
only roots remember his name
thin bones, wrapped in white hair
she affixes snow sprigs
bright and brittle.
they snap
and span
frigid air
long fingers spread shoots,
green with spring thrum,
push them down
into snow banks
where the green may sleep awhile yet
in silent memory
***
About the author:
A sometime poet, Audrey Howitt is also a classical singer and teacher, a licensed psychotherapist, and a recovering attorney. She lives in California and tends her garden even on cloudy days.
