They said she was
wacky and a bit
too wound up.
as they might
they could not
dim her light.
Now she haunts
where weirdos unite!
Yesterday, she was the sweet fruit, ripe and flourishing on the vine
Scorched by summer’s sun, her wisdom fermenting like fine wine
Today, she welcomes the harvest and gives freely of her heart
Sharing her love and wisdom as her life becomes her art
Tomorrow, she’ll find comfort in the warmth of her hearth’s glow
Preparing for her journey through the long nights of winter’s snow
Forever and a day, her words will ripple through space and time
For all who journey through the seasons, taste the fruit of the vine