Medial Woman,

I place my trust in you

who reweaves the world in vision, web and pearl.

Stars offer themselves to your old and nimble fingers,

music of your silent imagination.

Cradling myself in the timeless,

the wide, stable feet of your journeying,

I pluck feathers from the western wind,

forage in fields, in forests, spanning forever.

There’s not an ocean, in singular swirling,

that together we’ve not swum.

Beneath your gaze, egg-filled nests become visible,

rising springs share their voice

and solace of a kindness of words flows

through your unmoving lips.

I train my ears,

I train my eyes,

I allow the knowing in my hands

to find their joyous, wild and original way.