North Country Woman

A white Beaver moon

awakens me at midnight

her light so brilliant

I arise, startled –

Imagining a different window…

a cedar beyond the door.

 

I gaze into the field

of the grandmothers

shivering frost covered grasses

listening…

Water and stone

engage in intimate conversation

as a disappearing river flows

into white sand.

Unable to return the sea

her life blood is cut away.

 

Wandering about

showered in sliver light

I feel awe –

I spun a nest of warmth

for my dearest companions,

bird, dogs, and trees

out of a cosmic void.

And wonder why I am

still missing that other…

 

A little cabin in the woods

in the Northland…

where bears and flying squirrels

Foxes, coyotes, coy –wolves

frogs and toads

deer and mink find comfort

under boughs of sweet balsam

on windswept nights,

seek intimacy and friendship

with hungry hearts and eyes.

 

Here in the desert I find tracks.

But the animals that made them

are absentee friends…

And I am lonely for the field of

Wild Animal Grace

that comes to life

as deer bed down

in heavy snow

outside my door.

 

How do I reconcile the two?

My love for dear friends,

sparse desert scrub,

red willow, and cottonwood

and the haunting Voice from the other?

 

A North Country Woman

still calls my name.