Ophelias in Texas
I’m looking for Ophelia in the Perdanales
She explores, voyaging on the rivers
scenting them with her gathered herbs
following the water ways
flowing from pools to rapids in total acceptance of her path
speaking softly, murmuring over stones
trailing her leaves and blossoms
I heard her calling in the rain that drips from my Spanish oak
She muttered roughly in the horizon’s thunder
Ophelia’s claim on my time grows with every spring
and my own herbs are almost ready for harvest
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