On awakening.

In her dreams

She is flying

downward

 

Into secret places

beyond mountain

And mind

 

Of Her soul

where even in winter

It is lush and green

fragrant and comforting

 

Places no one else

can touch

Or see

 

And maybe she won’t share

not even with you

Unless she feels certain

 

You need to know

she keeps them for

Herself

 

She becomes Crow

seeing from above

A mountain in

 

parts of a whole

 

Its steep slopes

and jagged rocks

And soft spring grasses

Waving in the

evening light

Throwing gold on the hills

And silver where the river curves

teasing with her uncertain course

She can follow only from so high

 

As if she were

in the wind, of the wind

Blowing

 

Across the open flats

and navigating the

Rugged bluffs

 

In and out of

tall timber

Until at last she lights

 

upon the highest snag

 

Above it all

the voyeur of Her soul

Seeing across the big air

 

And down into that

hidden oasis

No one else is meant to see

 

Stealing a glimpse

detached

In this vast entirety

 

Absorb Her world

open your eyes with her

And find yourself still

 

flying.

~