My words are carried
on the winter morning wind
echoing off the obsidian mound
and shattering in silver crystals
reflecting the frigid sun.
The barren moon recedes
as my son, the wolf, ravens
devouring knowledge of the world,
listening to the song of the dolphin.
She is a rose, soft petals fluttering
thorns poised to punish a misstep,
He wears the feathers of the owl
staring into the night
fixing stars in their courses
holding gaseous orbs.
He sings to the bear
carrying the world
into its glacial den.
First appeared in Active Muse, Varsha 2019 issue.
An elk stands at the edge
of a placid mountain lake
and sees only the clouds
of an approaching winter.
A black bear leans over
the mirrored surface of the lake
and sees only the fish
that will soon be his repast.
The young man draped
in saffron robes looks
calmly into the water and sees
a pebble, the spirit of his ancestors.
I look carefully into the water
looking for an answer to a question
always lurking out of reach
and see only my ever thinning hair.
First appeared in Greens Magazine (Can) 29:1 2000