Last week I was walking on the path through the woods with the dogs and came to the pile of turkey feathers that had been left by a coyote or fox. They had been there a couple of weeks and I took some of them to put in my studio, but there were still so many left. I wondered how long they would be there. By the time I got to the end of the path and started back, it started to get windy. This was before the snow and the warm wind was picking up leaves and swirling them in the air as if breathing life into them. When I got back to where the feathers were, almost all of them were gone. I imagined them picked up by the wind, flying again.
“My body is holy, I dance with the earth expanding the universe, move over milk, my proud stomach carries yellow strength, scatter the feathers and live again.”