A Thousand Years of Living

When we walk through speckled landscapes where the shape-shifters dance,
we are walking in the footsteps of the ones who came before.
There are signposts they have left us all across the forest floor.
A thousand years of living - we dont set our sail by chance.

We are walking in the footsteps of the ones who came before.
The Old Ones' songs I hear upon the breeze.
A thousand years of living - we dont set our sail by chance.
I sing wolfsong to the mountains and knock on midnight's door.

The Old Ones' songs I hear upon the breeze,
under my feet the brittle leaves of summer past.
I sing wolfsong to the mountains and knock on midnight's door.
The night air whispers: here you are, at last! 

Under my feet the brittle leaves of summer past.
There are signposts they have left us all across the forest floor.
The night air whispers: here you are, here you are at last!
Walking through a speckled  landscape where the shape-shifters dance.

Argh. My lines are too long for the margins. Cant fix them. I am posting this for Real Toads Open Link, where I was amazed to just read Kerry's wonderful poem in memoriam of a slain poet, referring to the elders and footsteps. I have been working on this pantoum last night and this morning, and it was freaky to find myself somewhat on the same wavelength as another poet, which happens sometimes. Please dont miss Kerry's beautiful tribute here. And check out the links at Toads. Always wonderful poetry on open link Monday.