I would wander
like light, ancient pulses from beyond time
or like a river, over stones
and through rocks, roiling, then calm, always seeking after,
never as evanescent as a cloud,
but lingering, like birdsong, and if I dropped notes
like feathers, would you follow
a thousand whispers and shadows,
the brush of owl wings under the moon?
I decided to hold onto the first poem the Oracle gave me early this morning. Then she gave me some intriguing snippets before finally giving me this poem that gives me an excuse to share Kerfe’s beautiful painting again.