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Bearstorm
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Glacial Relic/ Riparian Forest
Rolling hills are ancient cliffs/ The tallest cliffs are infants/ leaping like yearling rams
We old men bent low/ our brothers live across northern seas/ wrenched apart at birth
One word of our true tongue/ A hundred million years/ a fraction of a single breath/ since your race was born
We once were cold as the north/ tundra and stunted trees/ wolf bear and elk
Retreating ice and our skulls are sanctuary/ our feet in summer but our beards are evergreen and halos of smoke and ice
Below the sky and above the Mattaponi
I seek the nourishment of its beauty
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The moon has set early over the marsh
clouds have veiled the constellations.
Fish dart the inky shallows.
The ascending ones submerge their great necks
To take as they please
Winds whisper the stories of the ages
And use the leaves of the trees as their tongue
Their words cool my burning soul
The Lampyridae's cold light flickers
And hang like lanterns in air
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