She walks in dappled brown. The trees, emboldened in their bare embrace, reach down, carress her freckled frown from their anchored heights to touch her face A pile of tiny bones, ivory needles in forgotten threads. Small among the roots and acorns put away, peek out and shudder. Hides itself away. Circled round like fiddlefern, tiny boxes -- vertebrae -- soft as chalk and fragile whisper under baby's breath, "Don't leave." She kneels, blinded by the dapples darting through the trees that sigh and shiver. Enchanted by its size, she lies beside it gently Closes her eyes and smiles.