There you are old friend I can see your wings stretched out pushing crowded skies ........................................... Dim light of day Gentle snow makes its way onto worked fields reminiscent of a season where even shadows recede broken corn stalks and shady crows dance Trees apparently sleeping, their bodies bent in pose approaching the solstice Frozen ponds deserted except for the occasional fallen leaf that resist no will of our sister I find myself in this landscape I am this ....................................................................... Window frames the moon Only it is apparent through the scattered clouds Standingdeer
Grandmother woman, the spiders have withdrawn. Immanent dreams shift; magnetized they travel, inching across the ragged mountains of your bosom, to spin our newness. Brother you awaken, smoldering embers, with your eagle flute.... calling like the solstice, a confluence of dew, to form frost language messages of the season. Do play another song...
