I reside between fire and water-
air and earth, the circular cradle.
I am the mountain lion
bounding to the glass you stare through,
meeting your gaze to say, Yes,
do not doubt,
it is you I am here for.

After sleeping a century last night,
and meeting day with wet mud toes,
twisting wind brings nuthatches to the branches overhead,
chattering amongst themselves as they swing round,
unbound hair, extensions of the tree,
while new grasses grow,
in a morning when scents sound
of Spring.