She weeps as fond memories roll outward in a direction away from her. Dreams of yesterdays adventures are now hidden in a single trail of dust left behind.  She is quietly scribing volumes of recognition.  Her lashes flutter like quills picking up the ink provided by each wave of reminders from the billowing sea of a well seasoned life. The strong frame that holds this woman stiffens but is not in contest to the unseen tide of her heartstrings pulling all around her into her dream. 

I am unfamiliar but pulled by the binding cord.  I will tread softly upon this trail of tears for it is the journey that connects us and the encounter was written beyond time and now begins.

She swiftly brushes away a path from her eyes as I approach.  This single puff of cloud she holds in her hand cannot veil this moment.  I have seen her but time now stops upon an hour to look beyond a brief encounter onto a bridge that leads to the very core of her realm. 

She is seated by the world around her upon a platform suspended above what lies beneath.  She looked beyond her days.  Her eyes were ancient spilling into a natural pool between the cracks beneath her feet.  She created the new from the old neither diminishing one nor seemingly finishing the other.  She is old world creating new earth teeming with possibilities.  

She is sheltered by beams of unfinished wood brought to life by the souls of well earned friendships.  She is encircled in song by a thousand princes hopping from board to board.  You cannot see her kingdom it is heard.  Her court is beyond beauty toward imagination not in vanity but through faith.  Just one kiss from a new encounter with this scene and the frogs fade into this princely crescendo rising into a symphony of time transcending this space. 

Black as the raven her crown is covered and within her hand a scepter of doves.  Her field is a sanctuary.  Every creature created welcome and protected within her realm.  She is queen and she has her king but there is not pretense here from either.  No reign of hierarchy but an open invitation is released. 

Darkness falls and starlight encircles the beams above resting in a circle around those gathering around her.  Like jesters in her court we vie for attention and her smile quiets the antics and encourages each to speak freely.  Stories are spun into yarns of tapestry. Each thread is wrapped together leaving no evidence of distinction but displaying a myriad of colors in equal importance to the masterpiece displayed in the heart of this woman. 

We were greeted with tears. We part with those of our own.  We have not taken hers but shared in a moment and left with a need to return.  Goodbyes are hard for her she said at first and now as the last light fades we understand for her eyes are dry and the road is no longer dusty behind our departing.  

Things come and go in her life but her greatest joy is the people who understand the road to the kingdom is paved with things that only travel one way.  Her tears for those fill the washboard ruts in the way and cover the dusty trail leaving behind a well watered path back home for those she loves dearest her children, her people, her kingdom comes always returning to the sound of the call of this Southern night experienced through ages in one moment of time.