Wild side

Primitively reckless, wild and loud
the child is discouraged
storms drench her house in thunder
trees take on the terrible tantrum of tempest
each crack and crone-like creak a shivering torment
in occult light she knows they lead the lost astray

on grass-topped summits, the West winds tug skyward
lifting the small kite flyer light as leaf litter
to scatter recklessly with birds over rooves and cliff
most times, she runs untamed with feral herds
mane and ponytail swing to a smooth, cantering gait
over the downs, along narrowing woodland paths
with bluebell juice and wild garlic trotted underfoot
before the pell-mell gallop in the tide enveloped sand
where foam fills hooves with shiny slivers of shell

at home there's always buttered toast with jam
and when it rains, she takes her box of paints
to wildflowers tethered in a jar

Posted a little late for dVerse but could not neglect Jilly’s prompt: Let’s Get Wild