Sand, stones, salt, shells. What we each do,
Where I belong, in the dunes according to call,
rearranging the world, husked of ambition,
carrying the elements to bring life
here and there, back into balance.
listening for the music How we each pull
of relationship. on the sheet of horizon,
Where else should I be, to remake the bed-rock,
but asking questions with fingers to right the rock bed,
thrust into diatoms of silica? that it may offer carbon
An infinity to the trees,
of pulverized bodies that they may offer oxygen
speaks to my nerves to the birds. Tonight,
glistening millenial light. with paw-prints
I am a scribe of sands in these same
these hands deep hills of sand,
related by tribe, by species in the deepest spaces
to those that painted a pride of night,
of lions on cave walls stalking these same dreams.
at Chauvet, 35,000 years past.
~Bonnie Morrissey, We’Moon