Do Your Thing Poem by Patricia Fritsche

Twirl hair,

branches as combs

sift not fallen strands

of amber leaves drifting alone.



Hold an essence of cauldron dreams

golden sparkle and tangerine, too.



Stir an emotion still sullen and blue

until a walk in the woods of changing hues.



Take me away,

as silent chatter of bark is brushed,

so sweetly sensitive.



And, now, change performs

lighthouse signals

soil's stage mortally singing.