Calling out the heart of the land
The hart stands.
His bones shudder.
Sound bounds, rebounds
Quaking quivering
Trembling shivering
As the forest echoes him,
Resounding in the wind of his voice.

Here I stand, on top of the hill,
Heeding hearkening paying attention.
The sky above me shudders.
My very bones shudder.
But here, here in my heart,
The hart bells.
Calling, calling, calling.

photo by Jan Rose