Once upon a time there was a little girl who lived on a farm.
She rode horses, chased chickens, and sometimes ran from snakes by the spring-fed pond.
The cats were wild, the dogs were mutts, and no one ever brushed her hair.
She rose with the sun, bare feet in rubber boots, not to feed but to feel a world wake.
The horses would snort and stomp, impatient for her climb.
The chickens squawk annoyed at being chased yet still they never learned.
The pond was always cool and quiet, holder of secrets for the girl who never asked.
She didn’t mind the tangled hair.
Or mud on her knees.
Or the way the wind always seemed to know her name.
Or mud on her knees.
Or the way the wind always seemed to know her name.
Because on that farm, everything was a little wild—
and so was she.
and so was she.