The sun sings springtime on the birdsong this morning
Like the ancestors sing ancient renewal into every new day
They are always singing. It’s just that I am listening easier now.
hardness takes the magic away.
We rarely hear when we listen hard…
It’s like expecting fingertip sensitivity in a balled up fist.
We won’t ever know the answers to the questions we don’t ask and the ones we do, we often miss.
That’s the beauty of this dance. Constricted doesn’t mean precise and there is a difference between prayer and wish.
So my work is to listen softly for the message on the wind, give thanks when taking Flight.
And trust the youth, my elders and my ancestors for they know that all is right.
Palace of Muse 