She was a wild girl
With freckled skin, an easy laugh
and the sort of spirit that comes with sunny days
and starry summer nights.
She punched, and yelled, and ran
Sat Indian-style in the shade
whistling through blades of grass
She wrestled her brothers, and often won
The smell of wisteria delighted her
drifting up the lattice work and catching,
ever so lightly in the breeze
She ran barefoot down the street at night
a fireball of energy, in pajamas and a ponytail
chasing away the final heat of summer
eager for the copper light of fall

But when the night came earlier
and the birds began to fly
Autumn came knocking upon the door
looking for her child
Who lay sobbing beneath the blankets
a tiny ivory puddle
not wild anymore