Already I have begun to introduce myself, listening to the rhythm and voice of this ridge and valley, beginning the slow process of building trust with those spirits and beings who are here.
from the graveyard of driftwood to the solstice pool, to the gaping troughs of the canyon
ancient energy still pulses along the ridge
memories of aspen groves before the fire,
fox fleets
elk track
that hang thick on a misty night
and its when that mist descends like a veil that you must listen
All is not as it seems, and voices you think speak to you from a modern era are truly whispers from some other realm.
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