Starling

Her skin is honey dripping into chamomile tea,

Her passion is boiling water that fills your heart with steam,

In the Eastern Woodlands, she is the moonlight through the trees,

And in the coastal regions, you can taste her salty breeze.

She has energy in spades, like all the song the songbirds sung,

A mystical charisma like the Land of the Nighttime Sun,

Her life's a raging river, carving up mountains as she runs,

And though she laughs like starlings, she can cut you with her tongue.