The unlikely espousal

It caught her whim to herd the lambs
To the graying pastures of the dusk.

Running behind them as fast as her legs
She drove them towards the lush green grasses,
To appease the hunger of their ever-empty bellies.

Or perhaps she drove them so she could be away,
At least for a few minutes from her seemingly cosy cave.

She could see them now, standing tall and firm
Beyond their dark disconcerting shadows,
The sculptors of the cave that was labeled her own.

They made the rains that filled the valleys
Tarry a minute so she could feel
The pristine droplets trickling down her skin.

It never caught her fancy though
Because she could only feel them stinging her deep.

But here in the open, away from the shadows,
The gushing waters of the chivalrous streams
Refused to wash her cracked feet,
For though by blood, she was of the mountains,
She was no more than a shepherding lass.

Then came the wind from a distant land
Blowing with force and bowing to none.

She ran up the hill forgetting her herd
And never did notice the sinking sun
She knew she could never withstand the force
Of the gale blowing up the innocent hillock.

No sooner did she reach the summit of the peak
Did the gale slow down to a soothing breeze
Probably to rustle her rustic hair or play with her seasoned skin.

She held his hands and walked down the slopes,
Into the woods and beyond the horizon.

Only the retreating sun and a bashful moon
Were witness when he carried her away,
Beyond the mountains, beyond her dreams,
Into lands unknown and yet undiscovered….