Story for a Copper Haired Little Girl 

Part I:

In the middle of the ocean

in the middle of the sea

in the middle of the plain

a great rock rises up.

Cliffs, smooth walls,

there’s only one way in.

One road you have to find

as you wend your way along

amidst the boulders and the cracks.

Up high there’s a city.

Towers and spires that appear and disappear

as you wind your way along the road.

---

The clouds drift by

as you climb higher,

an echoing voice keeps calling

– we’re waiting – don’t give up.

And then at last

an arched gateway

with up on top an eagle keeping watch.

An eagle on one side,

and on the other a goose – holding in its claw

a rock to drop if enemies draw near.

A gust of wind blows up the leaves.

Enter, enter, they seem to say.

Dark houses lean over dark streets

that seem to skitter left and right,

play hide and seek.

One turn and then another,

and suddenly

---

a burst of gold.

A miracle of lacy stone and glittering flashes

rises up ahead and reaches to the sky.

It glows, like fire, like the sun.

At its base small children run and shout,

heedless of the miracle behind them,

their voices echoing, then bouncing out into the void.

An ice cream cart comes round the corner

 and on the steps

a small round man sells salted pumpkin seeds

while at the edge of the square

blue and red balloons

escape their owner and rise into the air.

---

Sailing past the figures

watching from on high

on either side the portal.

An angel. A lion. An eagle. And an ox.

They’ve been perched up there

for seven hundred years

yet hardly show their age.

Perhaps nothing can surprise them

after all they’ve seen.

Things happy and things sad.

Wars and weddings.

Parades and lonely lovers.

School children on a visit herded by their teacher

and priests and friars dressed in black and brown.

---

But today there’s something

special in the air,

something special is about to happen.

The eagle moves his beady eyes and cocks his head.

The lion perks his ears.

The ox flares his nostrils

and the angel looks up from the scroll he’s reading.

Down there, at the end of the street,

a small figure draws near.

Wisps of fine deep copper hair

move gently in the wind.

Perched on her shoulder is something small and green –

a tiny frog, who whispers in her ear.

And behind her – look, a crowd of little frogs,

some green, some in a lighter color,

are hopping along to keep her company.

---

The angel and the lion

looked at the eagle and the ox.

Never in all their 700 years had they seen such a sight.

The little girl walked down the street

toward the glowing spires and gables.

You’re doing fine,

whispered the froggy on her shoulder.

I told you there was something splendid here.

She felt her heart beat faster

and hop skipped down the street

while the other frogs skip-hopped around her.

---