(Photo Iren Schio)
I am searching for her coat
made of mink tails
and bearskins –
for live animals to hold
me close
as I drift deep
into winter dreaming…
Snow will fall on the mesa
one still morning,
gray clouds streaming
across the sky
softening red stone
inking ochre shadows.
The river is in retreat
turning opaque sea green.
The beach appears
and stories are gathered and
written into the sand
by those who love Her.
A solitary egret stands watch
on the edge of a jagged cliff
peering with one golden eye
into rippling rapids
patiently stalking a fish,
the wind his sail.
The sun is still warm,
and velvet night wraps me
in her starry cloak
even as the Great Bear rises
her tail tipping the horizon.
Venus will soon rise out
of a scarlet winter dawn.
I mourn, and pray
for sleep to come…
Working notes:
I am at a loss to understand how my poor body can continue without uninterrupted sleep for seven weeks…I am always tired, yet hyper alert in my exhaustion to the slightest sound. Where is Winter Woman who directs the flow of sleep with her longer nights and slower rhythms as the sky stands still? How I long for her sweet presence to bring peace and slumber to this animal woman deprived of the joy of waking ready to give thanks for another day.
