For Ruth Stone

she stood wide-eyed
on the black earth
and knew the words were near.

familiar muse rattled towards her -
intent on finding voice.

so she ran
and ran
and ran

ran over soil
and grass
and straw
and wood,

into her home,
child's feet on the stairs,
fingers finding pencil
and paper

pulling the words
into her and onto the page -
exposed.