Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXII (day 2036)

(part XXXXXXI)

As Spring melted the snow
I could hear the mountains calling my name
It was like the wind
It would just come into my ear
And I wouldn’t hear anything else
Except my name
And a direction it would come from
I asked Willow if she could hear it
But she said that she didn’t
She said that she had heard
A similar voice in her ear
At a different time calling her
Neither of us really knew what it was about
Never had anything like it before
But we did admit that it was intriguing
And she told me she had never
Felt so much like going for a walk about
As she did that Spring.

When nearly all the snow was gone
And the moon was new
Willow and I decided to head
Directly into the mountains
To see what we would find
Lily River stayed with Mercy
And she was old enough now to mind herself
No doubt she would sleep most nights
By herself in our own teepee.

We decided we would only take one horse
Pack what little things we needed on it
Particularly some warm blankets
As it was still cold at nights
Lots of dried foods
But Willow knew all the Spring food
We could get in the woods
And I had my bow and arrow with me.

We decided that we would stay well South
Warmer, and the direction the whispers came from
The valley we soon discovered
Was in full stinging nettle bloom
And we picked there for a day until
Our fingers were stinging and our spare sacks
Were full of the tea for us to drink.

part XXXXXXIII

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXXI (day 2035)

(part XXXXXX)

Every day we could feel the weather warming up
But we could also feel our spirits rising
Spring came early
We felt heaviness of Winter
Seep out of our teepee
With every cleansing steam inside
And Willow would burn sage brush
Helping evil spirits escape.

I looked for every way to show Willow
Love that I had for her
And so did Lily
I think it was a team effort
We kind of all knew that nothing ever was the same
But we still wanted Willow back
And she came back to us
After a bit of a spell away,
For a few days she left
With warm blanket and clothes
To where we didn’t really need to know
But when she returned
She was a new woman
A proud woman, an invigorated woman
A hungry woman,
And we all still loved her
And ate to celebrate the change.

She told me one night
Soon after that
That she had a vision
From her mother
Telling her that:
As the sky must cry
To empty it’s weight
So too must the heart.

It shocked me a little bit
To learn that Willow felt unworthy
Of the love that I gave her
For what had happened
To our baby
But I reassured her it wasn’t so
That no matter what
I loved her
And with this
She looked me in the eyes for a long time
And finally exclaimed:
My Love, Big Arrow –
A name she had started to affectionately
Call me after she learned
Of Lily’s and mine’s first meeting
So many moons ago now
When she had given me her little arrow
And I to her: my heart –
I don’t know where you came from
And I do hope you stay a while
You are a good man
Better then most
Your kindness I could never match
And for that, I am yours,
Until the moon stops to shine
And the Sun falls asleep.

part XXXXXXII

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXVIII (day 2022)

(part XXXXVII)

As Spring rolled around
Gurgling and bubbling and thawing and sprouting
We were all very excited
To feel the warmth on our faces
Without it nipping as frost bite
It was nice to have the first potluck of Spring
With what everybody had left
From their deep winter stores
I had just, a few days prior,
Found some fresh fiddle heads
That we fried up in some buffalo fat
And made lots of fresh stinging nettle tea
Which was a real nice treat for everybody that got some
Before they were all eaten up.

Mountain Chief had made a journey again
To talk to some of the other Chiefs
And learned more of the oppression
The U.S. Army and Government were bringing down
Upon the First Nation tribes
All along the continent,
That pleased none of us to hear
And we had a few nights of discussions about
If we should relocate even further into the mountains
But that soon died down with news
That the U.S. Army were focusing
Most of their efforts
Further to the East
On the other side of the Prairies
Mountain Chief continued to hold his stance
That we would side with neither the warring tribes
Or the U.S. Army as scouts.

Through the winter, Willow had been busy
Making new moccasins with the deer hide
We had caught in the Autumn
For us to wear in the new season
But we all refused to wear them
Until the thaw had finished
None of us wanted to ruin them
In the lingering wetness!
But every morning as I’d wake up
I would see them sitting there
Nearly gleaming in the darkness of the teepee
Waiting for me to put them on
I couldn’t help but think to myself
How much I now felt part of this family
How much they had accepted me
How much we all loved each other.

part XXXXIX

Spoons of Sorrow (day 1959)

When I walk into an empty room
When I reach my palms for the sky
As essence, I’m a ghost
And sunrise brings tomorrow
With ten thousand spoons of sorrow.

I am a prophet in a rose
With two hands tied by thorns,
Fence posts painted white
Along dew kissed morning lawns.

When I sit amidst thousand year old trees
When I wave crookedly in heaven’s winds
My heart becomes a dead leaf
Integrating so effortlessly into a path
Dust to soil to earth to spring.

So long shall my stalk bend
Two ends of a hemp string crossed,
Seeds falling on gray wood
And harvest moon is my birth.

Howling (day 1888)

You’ve heard me calling upon your heart
My intentions are the spring:
Freshness of blossom, budding truth,
And warmth of the sweet sun.

I do not mean to make you shy,
My intrigue honest felt;
Throwing hazard to the wind
You hear my heart, my cry.

Like all painters of the world
I’ve swept my stroke upon your canvas,
Chance has left me restlessly
Dreaming of a midnight dance.

Your heart is grace to my wide eyes
I’ve felt it pushing, then giving slack,
I hear your wolf howl at my moon,
Hear mine, here, howling back.

Edges (day 1911)

Off you go, into the North
Leaving me here all wrapped in alone,
I see the tender wind a blowing
Guiding you on your way.
All around green leaves are turning,
At first in yellows at the edge,
Then before I know to check my season,
Fully entrapped in brown as vivacious earth below.
This makes me think of how you’ve taken
Over these delicate edges of my heart;
At first you were sweet wind blowing
On a sunny, summer afternoon.
Then you started to set my edges
To warmer shades of home,
Until at last, I fell, expanded,
Into this palm you call forever.
And all the while, I’ve always trusted
An unerring cycle of our earth;
North to South, East to West,
Forest trails from here to there,
And as I turn my inner eye
(Autumn, Winter, Spring, and Summer)
I realize no matter the colour of the sky
It’s nothing, unless you are the colour of my home.

Exist Between (day 1861)

Where is this spot that exists between dream and reality
The viscerally imaginative soft stuff
That shakes shaggy ground free of complaints
And sunsets clear morning’s dew
From cobwebs shining as if testing new approaches
To similar corners, similar filters, similar dreams
That sit still and recoil while inhale meets exhale
And spring meets autumn
And one meets two
And a shoe gets worn through by impermanence of space
That’s always been growing up and chopped down
And eaten and fed and counted and weighed
And slotted into a spreadsheet marked with scales
Ranging from zero to ten with a save button
That creates multiple redundancies.
When the only request is for a tiny piece of convenience
For just one moment.
And in a flash,
With feet firmly planted securely on uneven ground
And hands held out in wide Namaskar to this beautiful world
A little droplet of rain shall fall perfectly
Upon a freckled upturned nose holding thoughts
Of a sunny day and all the rays of life shall shine down
In abundant warmth like a ticking clock
Chiming in at every quarter hour.

Exist Between by Ned Tobin

A Little Hole (day 1784)

Whisper in a little hole
Hold a deep deep breath
Extrapolate
Break strong bonds of resonate
Into a golden fire
Or let it gravitate
Magnetate
Magnetize those eyes
Ride on in a long line of sleepy songs
Brazen with a golden rod
In a tap tap world of
Like and go,
Like and go
And keep whispering
To a lost princess
Holding on to spring’s first tulips