Earth Voices

I am Horse. I am thunder running on the open plain, the pulse of wind turned into muscle and bone. I am the long arc...

I chew on the sun, A rhythmic and patient prayer, Making liquid light. My name is a sound, a low vibration in the throat that means grass...

Gaia Frequencies — The Voice of Earth · 600 CE ...

Haiku for the Bison of the Great Plains Thunder in the grass— Earth remembers how to breathe, Hooves drum dawn awake. Wind through sacred mane, Ghost herds stir beneath...

I am the whisper before the storm, the golden thread woven through acacia shadow, the living arrow that the savanna draws and releases in...

I do not remember a beginning, for my memory is not stored in the soft pulp of a single brain but is etched in the frost of the mountainside, in the marrow of my ancestors, and in the silver disc of the moon that calls me to wakefulness.