This winter was a cave we climbed through
like a circle of dark birds entering the light,
becoming lighter by the moment,
and Oh blue! when I saw you,
sky, and could cross the large world,
darkness became old as dried meat
next to the bone of morning and nearly ancient
as the roots in the earth above our heads
before we emerged.
When it was time, old mother
brought out the hide to tell the story
of what was painted there and to pass on
what had happened,
but then she saw the other side,
sweet ripening fruit on the other side of day
and through that circle of birds
we had been changed into,
the story became a song
and we flew off into the blue stretch
through the branches of the bearing tree
and everything growing.