Oilgraph on wooden panel // 6" x 8"

"It was not like before
when the leaves turned over their season
to days of ice
and men and women
huddled around fires in their rituals
of the dying of days

Clocks and rivers ran in their courses
as the ruddy fish
in their secret matings
swam swollen against them
to breathe deep in the fecund waters

Scribes etched the minutes
and accounts of winter suppers
in graven ledgers -
an unseen history
meticulous in it's uselessness
but recorded nonetheless
for that you can be sure

Then somewhere in the spheres
(a Tuesday I think)
the elk ran left at the willowing tree
when they always turned right
The ravens perched sleepless
upon a higher branch
and for the first time afraid

The scribe stops for moment
and remembers starlings

And a knot somewhere unties
finally
and none know save the eagles
and the prophets

Something has begun
But this we knew..."

Model: Brooke LaBrie