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.