her life

the death
of a poet goes unnoticed
by most.
a small obit
in the back page
of the metro section
of the post.
she spent her life
in the woods
wandering,
trying to extricate
what
her father did
when she was a child.
each leaf that fell
at her
feet had meaning,
each stream she bent down
to touch
was real
beyond what it was.
it never ended.
until now.