It comes from aging cedar long and narrow path the flute does sound a mournful cry For love and celebrations too it marks the days of old and new To see and hear the camps and smell the fires burn while all along the rise and fall of timbre fills the air The flute so […]Read Post ›
The elder woman breathed more deeply trying to fill her lungs with the pine and cedar scented air. She prayed for family and a childhood failing to remember times of warmth and care. Demons danced around her and she fell into her way of resting near the fire and of seeking solitude. Her song of […]Read Post ›
