Light is not dancing on the carving of the Bear.
Bear and Owl are dancing their duet
in light and shadows of morning.
Light is not caressing the face of rose.
Rose dances the tango for the sun,
showing her face,
her firm silken petals,
opening herself to sun’s light,
strutting and prancing,
in morning’s awakening.
Light is not dancing on the mountains.
Ridges and valleys of western slopes
are playing hide and seek
with the orb’s rays.
Hiding in blue-green shadows,
rushing, rushing across light’s stage,
pirouetting into blazing bright greens.
Light is not filtering through cedar’s boughs.
Cedars’ summer-browned needles hang
and gently waltz.
Veil, shade, shaman’s curtain
playing with light’s waves,
forcing the waves to pass through
or weave around.
Sun is not dancing off raven’s shiny feathers and bright eye.
Raven’s one cra-awk, high in the sky,
Signals raven soaring, turning upward,
destined to capture the Sun.
The Zetta Angus Papers 