Singing to the Land

The wind comes up as the sky darkens.

I can see the moon oriented behind me, over my right shoulder and it hovers over my roof as I sit on my back porch and sing songs to the land.

"...Home, be the temple of my heart.  Home, be the body of my love.  Just like Holy Water to my lips..."

I am bundled in layer upon layer of wool against the icy breeze.  It feels like a tonic to my face, which remains exposed.

I see lights in the sky.  An airplane silently races by, flying low on the horizon far in the distance.

The wind rustles the bare cascading branches of willow and birch and the rhododendron next to me.

"...Coming to the earth.  Singing to the stars.  Change we must to live again.  Coming to the earth to the moon.  Coming to the sky to the earth.  Change we must to live again..."

Esmerelda joins me on my lap and looks out at the world from the folds of my cloak.  She purrs her song.

"...We will witness a song, we will sing.  We belong to the world.  Our Mother so divine.  We live again.  This is here, this is now, this is love that surrounds.  Change we must, change we must to live again..."

A night bird flies past.

"...Take the water to the mountain.  Cross the great divide of love.  Give to nature all you can be.  Let the Mother know your heart.  Take the water to the mountain.  Let's become alive again.  Holy water, Holy mountain.  Holy river.  Holy tree."

The chimes ring in the night, as a flurry of wind stirs them.

I do this almost every night now.  There is no greater medicine right now for me than this.

Peace.





Song lyrics by Jon Anderson