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| Matheus Bertelli |
Shifting Winds
Raspy-voiced crows forage
through fallow autumn fields
the wind lifting their feathers
towards the north.
We collect acorns and apples,
gather fallen leaves and twigs
in our pockets and build an
offering of little altars.
As night falls we sit by the hearth
and measure the shadows, pausing
as the chime of the evening church
bells call the mortals to vespers.
When the heat of the fire dies we
stir the ashes, looking for a message.
Finding none we listen for hope and
hear it whispering in the embers.
© Karen A. VandenBos
Enjoy more posts by Karen A. VandenBos HERE.
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| Karen A.VandenBos |
Karen A VandenBos was born on a warm July morn in Kalamazoo, MI. A PhD course in Shamanism taught her to travel between two worlds. A two-time Best of the Net nominee, her writing has been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Blue Heron Review, Moss Piglet, Feed the Holy, and others.
Lovely
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