Wolf
As the mountains blossom under a ripening moon
our yips fall like drops, a chorus
rippling your dreams,
blurring your waters
with change
and invitation.
Voices rise here,
in between,
widening across the valley,
scattering shadows.
In this too, you belong —
the way light plays across waves,
or like the dew, shaken from our
coats,
lands like stars
all around you.
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I needed to read these words. Thank you!
Thank you, Mireille!
One of my favorites! The language is so lush Tricia. I am transported to “the mountains blossom under a ripening moon.” xo