She braids the night air into her hair
the wind of midnight, moon breeze
cool stone under her feet, and the sleeping heads of poppy flowers.
It is this waiting that defines her,
the coolness and the no-light, the stillness
and the thousand things huddling and creeping,
unseen in the dark.
The daylight, others say, is who she is, is what makes her
like honey makes the bee,
but it is the un-day alone
when she really feels like herself, braiding
her hair that is black as her mother’s,
her mother’s cool house quiet around her
and the humming, bee bright expectation
of feeling Night’s warm kiss wing-soft on her cheek.
[Alexandra Seidel probably caught the myth and fairy tale bug while she was out in the woods one midsummer day. Meanwhile, the disease has turned her into a Rhysling-nominated poet, a writer and editor. Her first collection of stories and poems, All Our Dark Lovers, is forthcoming from Morrigan Books on Valentine’s Day 2013. Other work may be found in Mythic Delirium, Goblin Fruit, Stone Telling, and elsewhere. You can follow her on Twitter (@Alexa_Seidel) or read her blog.]