The Huntress is hungry
for the taste of life.
To sink her teeth
into the juices of artistry.
She yearns and she seeks
and through the shadows speaks
to the heart of the poet
searching for direction.
Her eye is keen.
Longing churns in the belly
waiting to hear her call –
long and low through the forest.
Follow her footsteps,
swift and strong,
in the damp leaves.
The Huntress is wise;
knows the true trail
from the false path;
finds her way through the night
by the sharp scent
of ambition.
The Huntress is clear.
Her eyes dark like mirrors
see into the depths of you:
what you truly want;
what you hear calling
through the back door
of your dreams.
She will show you the way.
Fingertips on the red thread
that tugs at your heart
with the stubbornness
of the old grandmother.
