Things of the Dreamtime

Observations, musings, and experience

I saw the sandhill cranes descend towards the marsh, their wings open as if holding voluminous robes, their feet dangling expectantly towards the soft land below. Embracing the sky, they were feathered prophets. Yogis, emerging from their cold snow caves to the world of the living, dancing on the winds of change.

These winds have been whispering to me, …