Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud
Evening falls softly in the mountain valley, a peaceful end to the day and the temperatures are dropping, smoke comes from the roofs of every home, a gentle snow comes down bringing with it silence.
In the East a new moon rising on fields of wind driven snow, a bluish cast to make the world look eerie and sound so quiet.
The shadows of brother Owl brush across the snow as he flies low circling the meadow: field mice duck then scurry home, not wishing to be dinner.
Brother Fox leaves his track in the pristine beauty, on the hunt but staying low too easily seen with no trees or bushes near to hide in.
First thin ice makes a glittering skin across the river, underneath the slow sweet sounds of the water singing still, as it moves toward the ocean.
Snow begins to fall in thicker veils and all out begin a search for burrows; stars above blink off and on fires of my ancestors.
Clouds move across the rising moon leaving drifting shadows, the sleeping ones will awake with new snow high against their lodges.
Sweet notes from a single flute, love has conquered even cold, as he plays with all the love in his heart to the one who will share his path in this life!
©Copyright December 4, 2007 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud