Sounds from the Old Lodge 

The cry of the Loon
across the lake at dawn
is the first line of a story
I keep trying to learn
 
I strain my ears to listen
to the sounds from the old lodge
to the voices who murmur
in the dark dreaming forests,
they speak in solemn tones
around dim fires
and often there is weeping
but sometimes singing too,
it is Loon and Raven
Otter and Bear
sharing their tales of chase and
their worries of friendless winter
the vanishing trees
the Salmon nearly gone
 
I hear their songs
which no human voice can render
floating on the wet light
of clouds, bound with prayers
to the reticent sun
music with the scent of blood
 
Breathing the bitter blue
incense of their doleful council,
I walk without footprints
to the shore's black mud
seeking again the place
where the Loon cries
and the story begins.


From the book, "Sounds from The Old Lodge"
ISBN: 0-9640308-8-6
Castle Rock Publishing ©2004