She lies down on her side and fills the valley.
In the lowlands her legs are a river;
alder trees and wild winter bushes
shimmer in the windy rain.
In the mountain her breasts are blue
and snow clouds sweep across them.
In the bend of her knee
are a thousand farms.
When she dances
rain clouds are broken apart
by the sun flying across her shoulder.
When she sleeps and dreams
a thousand geese sing her praises.
First Glimpse of Swallows
Brooding Heron Press, 2022