Listen

In the wind I can hear
the gentle sighs
of an old woman.
White black feathers
between ash grey strands of hair,
eyes as quiet as the lakes
at dawn
fixed lightly on an inner vision.
Face creased by happiness
and trial.

She sighs
as she watches the flames
dance the dance of wisdom;
jump and sway
like the grace of an
enchanting girl
called the Flow of Nature.

Here is the silence of waiting;
the rest from rushing.
We listen to the music,
nod at the melody
and find an easy rhythm
in the beat.

Harmony.

(Dedicated to my spirit-guide)