Dresses all in black
gently tiptoeing into the room
heading into the shadows like a
brooding beatnik waiting
for a turn to speak
golden tresses cascading down her shoulders

she subtly makes her presence known
smells like the start of winter and whispers
like the first snowfall of the year

you can taste her in the pristine snowflakes
falling on your tongue as you face
the heavens

in her down-time she
crochets custom-fit blankets from clouds
so you can feel her comfort when you
need it most

she is timid,
easily broken,
by boys with mechanical toys and girls
with chatty cathy dolls

but when she is in her glory
she will not hesitate to pick you up and
gobble you down

once you are completely consumed it is there,
it is there in her belly
that you can find your voice.