joegoda | the green woman

Snuggled amidst the greenery, high up in the topmost branches, high enough that startled birds are caused to wonder if their altimeter is correct, sits a figure. Green and long and leafy. Bearded in honeysuckle vine and hair like a lilac bush gone wild, it sits, cradled by a fork in the tree, the last remaining beams of moon stroking her face. Snoring gently, in and out, in and out, the sound musical, like wind through tinkerbell windchimes placed outside the caboose of a roaring steam train.

Twittering her alarm clock, a flock of starlings rise up and take to the breakfast air. Long, lithe arms stretch up, up, up, branches reaching toward the fading stars, fingers splayed and nails the dark green of old peat. Cat eyes open and catch the begining of dawn, the gold and reddish bounces of sun showering on all the world.

A yawn, quiet and feminine, launches from dark green and lush lips. The yawn floated briefly, then gave way to the noisy silence of the morning rustling of awakening day animals.

Standing, luxuriously stretching, long waisted, and leafy, the figure scratches briefly, dislodging a beetle that had been snoozing where back meets backside. Smacking her lips, she reaches up and grabs the branch above her, pulls herself up, and observes her world.

Forest. Dark greens and light greens and dark reds and light reds, yellows, oranges, and blues. The rainbow could be found in her forest, laying on it's side, splashing its hues hither and yon.

Lifting her body higher, she looks down at the dizzying elevation she occupies. A tummy rumble reminds her that it is time for eating, not admiring, though she wonders why she shouldn't do both at once.

Surveying the canopy from her aerie purch, she takes careful aim and swinging on her branch, once, twice, thrice, she launches into the air, snagging another branch, lower though, on the tree two doors down.

Repeating this acrobatic four times, she tumbles and falls and drops and skips from branch to branch until finally, she lands feet and hands on the leaved ground below.

Standing aright, she squishes her toes down into the dark and lush topsoil, feeling the floor give way, parting with apologies to her digging. Roots pay out from her feet, down, down, finding sweet water and tasty microbes far beneath her.

Her hands once again launch up, reaching toward the air, soaking in the moisture from dew laden breezes and golden, three-pointed leaves appear on each digit and down her arms.

She happily sighs, and thanks her mother moon as she sinks with a final wink below the horizon. She thanks mother moon for the nurturing of the night, for the quiet of dark and for the solace of evening air. She sighs again, just as happily and greets father sun, for life and warmth, for the creatures that keep her company, and for the joy that the day brings.

Dark lips part from around white birch teeth, and a smile grows. Tiny crinkles of tickle form around a delicate nose as a rabbit nudges her foot, looking for its own breakfast. All is right with the world, she thinks to herself and the rabbit and the world.

"I wonder what the humans are doing?" she breathes out on lilac scented breath.