Elemental Poem by Elizabeth Hull

She is copper in the early sun,
a firefly of promise, a light of
possibility, she is everything
in fledgling green. Perhaps or
perhaps not, it does not matter.
When worlds spool out, there is
always another take.

She is golden in the zenith of
her dreams: a prideful heyday
with spangles singing on the path.
She heaps her chariot with delights,
she tastes foamy spindrift, she draws
pictures in the sand. Each door is
flung wide open in the sun.

She is silvered by the moonlight.
Star Chamber defines how deep
her footprints lie. After all,
there was just one rotation.
Shivering in the frost-blue truth,
she cries for one more turn -
but it is done. No second life.