Susan B. Nolen

My body is made of smoke.
Quietly fading in
Drifting among trees
Gathering in the hidden places
You do not see me
But I am here

My hair is made of prairie grasses
Shivered by the wind
Nourished by the deep soils
Pliable when young and tender
Upright and stiff with age
Sending out invisible roots
To bind us to the land.

My breath is the huff of deer
Scenting the air for danger
The tang of pine and sage
Scenting my dreams
In and out
Do you hear it?
We are still here.


Originally published in Circle of Seasons, Fall 2021

© Susan B. Nolen, 2021.