By John Thomas Tuft
When the lone wolf steals through the forest at night
Searching for an outcropping of rock to howl at the moon
The silver light casts moon shadows across the snow
While the echoes of wild memories dance to its tune.
When the first flower pushes the ground aside in spring
Opening its leaves reaching for the promise of the sun
Folded inside her bud the gestation of true colors
While the echoes of sleeping in darkness slowly come undone.
Locked inside the heart of each newborn child
Promises and memories still await their time to seek light
Prepared for learning to love with sound and touch
While the echoes of trust weave the fibers of true sight.