Spellbound
Photo by Dylan Ladds Amidst a blizzard, spitting sideways I am blinded Shuffling skis through the field Hay for the sheep Backs white with snow When at last I rest After the morning chores, Snow and hay brushed away I see before me a Bard Owl Flying, entering the forest Respite against a Pine Wind on the other side Swinging their head round, We must have made contact I feel in these storms, silence creep in These are the moments To listen for friends in the forest Daring to hear the conversation Of a dancing forest tuned to the wind Daring to listen to a rising moan from the wind The crackling of limbs Wondering before it all settles And I go to them If it was not spoken for already Wood, to lay and compost As it lies for the wee critters Wood, to boil the sap Or heat the hearth of a home Wood, never to be found At all Wondering if this is simply out of my control Simply a song of our accommodations to be here Wondering if we still are listening I am still troubled by another morning Quite different than this one The message spoke for a sunrise skate And though the group was split in their wishes Messages passed peacefully, no one pushed Yet something bigger stirred Perhaps the humanist narrative of agency Was unrecognizable In the midst of our allowance Belonging to the world We would go come morning In the morning I arose at 3am Shuffling skis through the field Blinded by stars A moon hung illumined Hay for the sheep They seemed to understand Nothing unusual, they greeted me the same And whisked me off All was quiet, In our carpool, a slight sound Soft piano and a fiddle came from the speaker Not much for chatter It was beautiful and perfect When we arrived we glowed in the twilight Fitted our skates and in turn glided The sun breached the horizon before us Skating straight 3 miles from any shore Black ice, thick Spellbound