And the canyon held her
Like a mother holds
a grieving child
who lost her holy place
to slaughter.
The trees wept.
Today,
she gathered pinion
pine, fir, and spruce
to acknowledge
the sanctity of trees
in this dark season
of golden winter light.
She gathers in the greening.
The scent of pitch
sticks to hands
tipping branches
In Love.
Giving thanks.
She imagines beloved
black bears
dancing
behind boulders,
feels a powerful
beary presence nearby…
She has been
offered another gift
in this place
where clear spring waters
tumble down steep mountain cliffs
and watercress grows…
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright.