I am longing for Spring to come. Daughter says the seasons have shifted a month – April is now March. I don’t have any argument given the weather we are having. It is time to put hands in soil but the soil is cold and the sun refuses to shine through the clouds. It seems that it is time to call on a bit of Magic – the kind we’ve forgotten over the years, the kind Mother’s once taught their daughters. My Mother forgot the words, so in order to sing up the Magic I must imagine what must have been, once, when we were closer to Earth, when we knew our lives were entangled with hers, when we cared. Perhaps it is not too late to find our way home.
I Sing for You First Song
I sing for you First Song, learned
from my Mother who learned from hers
back to First Mother who learned
from the yellow feathered bird
one fine morning when the earth
was greening and the sun dancing
with clouds – or playing hide and seek –
no descernable difference from the ground, and
raccoon stopped cleaning her paws to listen
and turtle sat on her rock, entranced. You
will not know the words but
the feeling will be familiar and You
will imagine that you do, will begin hearing Song
again and again in different languages:
frog croak, crow caw, wind howl; and, You
will know that You are no longer lost, but
that You have at last arrived home.
1 Comment
Love this! This is the imagery you work so well with. Rich. Fertile. Natural “hearing Song
again and again in different languages:
frog croak, crow caw, wind howl; and, You
will know that You are no longer lost, but
that You have at last arrived home.” Wonderful imagery.