motherwolf

No!, They're not gonna see this coming.





The Returning

Freeze your voice
for there are no words for this
movement

not
the beating of drums on the water
but
a gentle stirring breeze

born on the feathers
borne on the wing
borne on the hands that let guide them

til the returning of spring
brings the labors to gather

and in one voice

defy, the makers of our bounds