Trappings

She strides, bedecked in the trappings
of ravens and magpies.
Her coat, the color of the urban underclouds.
Plum, peach, and slate grey skies.

She smiles in confident tones of
One who has seen a thing or two,
Knows what is what.
She points you to your destination
In exchange for a bauble
Of personal information you already forgot.

Green boots, like cocktail olives
And fashion forward thinking.
She strides, clothed in the trappings
Of ravens and magpies.

—–

I have returned! I’ve kept all my poetry in paper journal format as is my custom. I guess it’s time to go back to putting it all up in electronic format.

I’ve been playing with that first couplet for months now – never sure where it was meant to go.