Maisy Root

A bright eyed spirit 
sinks to the bottom
but the light pulls her up, up and away
Hands in soil
Arms around trees
Nature is calling her name
Should I be this? Should I be that?
Be it all!
Paint the wrinkles, hear the wisdom
Strum your guitar, all sunny and yellow
Notes of joy in the air, the journey is 
starting
Your strength
Your purpose 
Is you.