A Poem About Mandi

Naked, flame-red hair billowing
In the wind, the smell of marijuana
Deep in her nostrils
And the sharp burn of the bourbon
As it slides down her throat.
She leans back against the tree,
Watching the fire sway and flicker,
The smoke rise, feeling the beat
Of the hippies’ drums.
She loves the grass under her hand,
Loves the frivolity of the moment,
Loves the child she will go home to in the morning.
This is her last Gathering.
After this, she will become the mother faerie,
Golden Tink the mother,
Leading her elven child through life,
Teaching him to love like she does,
To trust, to understand.
She loves her family,
The way they scold her for what she is doing,
For the person she became.
She loves them for that.
She wants to teach drama,
To make young actors rise in their talents,
The artist in them spring to life like hers did.
That’s why she loves, because it’s art,
Because it’s beautiful, because of him,
Because of her, because the world sweeps
Her into its heart and she can never escape.