In Yakutian Meadows

A piece of ethnic copper art I gave back, but a photograph I was urged to keep

Where is she now
The girl whose picture I found
Framed and bound in cuneiform copper design

Sitting among spring grasses
Eyes sparkling bright, embedded in her heirloom

What were her dreams, then
Were they of the Siberian shaman, who speak in symbols and howl to the wolves

And who tap messages into copper settings,
Of the mythical world tree, and summer solstice sun

Which wild petals did she take home and press
The girl from Yakutia whose copper-mounted photo I found
Tucked in the antique chest I bought last night
From the silver-haired woman, whose eyes shone so bright?