Inner Seasons
The Mythic Art of Virginia Lee

   

Inner Seasons

Follow the Crow and find the trail

of breadcrumbs, feathers, leaves and stones

to lead you from the summer lands

into the autumn and unknown,

yes go. Go now, as day ripens,

your fears writ large upon the sky,

the wind whispers: don't be afraid,

the trees tremble as you pass by

and Crow cries out, compelling you

through haunted hills that rise and fall

and breathe and sigh beneath your step,

and Crow is gone. . .and you, you're small

and all alone, and frightened now,

the wind grows cold, the autumn trees

stand naked as the seasons turn,

the sun sinks down, you're on your knees

upon the grass, upon the ground

among toadstools spotted and red,

as red as blood, as black as crows,

you rise and run, the sun has bled

its dying light onto the land,

follow the flame, follow the flow,

follow the one who takes your hand,

follow the sun, the moon, yes go,

go quickly now, and join the dance

where child, girl, woman, and crone

all waltz within your heart, your skin,

your inner seasons, flesh and bone

formed out of water, root, and stone,

and blood and flame and leaf and star,

then sleep, and dream of days to come,

and all you'll be, and all you are,

yes, sleep. You dream of crows, and clouds,

of feathers, flight, and fields of snow,

and of the day you tell your own daughter:

follow the Crow.

Terri Windling