Cottonwood
A wind blows through me,
Through my many fingers that sway and click against one another.
A warmth from high above and to the East energizes me,
Trickling downward from my fingertips to my deep, deep toes.
From the East I am also illuminated, so my shadow is cast upon the surface of the river.
I can almost see, in my own way, each of my arms reaching out and up,
Reaching and searching to heal something I'm not meant to understand.
The waters from the sky touch my fingers.
The waters from the river touch my toes.
And I sway to a sacred dance with the winds and sun and rains.
Please, come sit with me and touch me and feel my skin.
I will do my best to pass on to you my medicines,
If you are worthy to receive.
--Owl (Shifted as Cottonwood)
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