She is a queen

Her face like wind through winter

She asked questions

And gave answers

In a clear voice

Then knelt before the Gray Wolf

Heir to the temple

Before hailing the ancestors

Shouting applause because

It’s time to go

To the fairy groves

Of bare-branched trees

With tiny lights set up in

Trees hung with silver songbirds

Journeying to the king

That should have surrendered