Panaroma

PANORAMA In the valley floor looking at the peaks Of the mountains ringing this secluded dell, She wonders how long this view took to be shaped. She explores vacuity as silence speaks. It tells a tale as only the quiet can tell, And takes her to where she fought and escaped. She stands at the convergence of two creeks, Laying open as her legs did when she fell. Struck by the man she shot instead of being raped. She struggles to find the one answer she seeks. Where once she had the playful mind of a belle, She now timidly searches for what’s been reshaped. Turning west towards her camp of two weeks, Towards the reassuring campfire smell, Gun in hand she stares at crags cold, and shadow draped. arsnydermedicorepoet.com