Residin amongst the willows that weep for the ghosts they know, torrid past ensurin many and more, where the oak stands hu’nnerds o years strong, cloaked by soft sponges of green
Solace of solitude is hers by choice, kept company by endless flocks of words, that resound into her eons auld soul, words of prose and verse, words that tell a tale, and those meant tae be sung
A woods witch no tae fight the dyin o the light, while rejoicing o’er blood on the horizon, a lover o the night and the wee hours, lit by the clarity o countless prayers and the tide's only mistress
Her mood will shift as if hung like an amethyst pendulum, n’er tae halt on a golden mean, fae tumultuous caldera tae glacial freeze…
Primal resolve found on the crest o crashin waves, where others may have drowned, her true self uncovered, to take her own measure
One amongst no other, there is magic in the words she speaks, poetry that carries meaning and bestirs the fellow souls who doth hear her speak
A Rogues poem, by Joseph Friend, inspired by, and dedicated to, Miki Hoppe
