THE WEAVE:

Persephone dreams

of home…

I carry my sister's Sun
into the Heart

of my homeland.  We wave
at Angels and Shadows.

We snap pine needles,
in our palms.  We sniff their sap,

and hold flowers to each-other's
noses.  We twirl, and laugh.

He points, and I go where.
He guides me.  We walk

the patterned path of the Labyrinth,
hand in hand.  We watch

the Water move, and stand still
for long moments.  We lean

in, with our heads together,
and listen for the IS.

Little shaman that he is,
without Word to bar his Way,

he alWays finds the medicine
we seek.