Wind rushes through the grass

the moon grass

the hiding grass

the magic grass

the grass who turns silver and whispers songs

when you touch it in moonlight.

I’m not supposed to touch the grass.

Especially not now

when the moon is high and full

and the night wind blows dark and secret

but I can’t resist.

I am a Bear Girl,

a Fox Girl,

a Raven Girl,

a Cat Girl,

a Wild Girl.


author bio:

Siiri Cressey