long before
this moon rose
we crone-walked
this cusp world
and waited for change,
planted seeds
while the babies slept,
danced giddy
to the falling leaves –
and when darkness came,
as darkness does,
untethered
from the light that lives
and those around us fell,
kindling wood to altar fires
of the new gods of the darkening,
and when words of the making
were burned from the world
we chose the silence
of stone and mountain,
the potent silence of seeds
waiting for the moon.
it is knowing
our walking casts
a shadow
that keeps us
walking light.
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