She

She runs with the wind
She lets it carry her, as red leaves on an Autumn day.

She hears the call.
It beckons her, “come, taste, see”.

She sings the song of freedom.
She dances unapologetically and with brave abandon.

I was the teacher, now she teaches me.
I was her lighthouse, now she leads me to the beauty in the storm.

She’s wild and mild.
She’s calm and restless.
She’s joy and outrage.
She’s light and she’s dark of night.
She’s the future….

She’s my daughter.


Elizabeth Stoeckel
January 2, 2009