I Write

Dark Witch of Zanvia

Standing on the edge of the lake
The wind swirls and carries wisps of water
Up into the sky
A woman stands at edge
Her gaze holding firm
Her concentration holds
Draws the water up
Funneling it higher
With her hands
She draws them out
And the water moves
Like a wall it gathers
Then reforms
And dances back to the surface
Like a curtain of shear
Lace like delight.
The woman smiles
Lowers her hands
And returns to the forest
Where the trees bow
And the wind whispers
Her name...
Aria

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This piece won The Writer's Cramp on December 7, 2014

** Image ID #1855238 Unavailable **