I write the dreams of my elders.
I write the songs of sweepers.
I write the melody of gatekeepers
I write the mothering spirit of branches,
hueing maple sapp with bark and sugar.
I write of the distance traveled long before earth.
I write of wings sown in prayer and navigating me.
I write of the mountains dancing in my belly.
I write rythms of oceans.
Afterall Poetry is treasured earth.