Song

In the cold morning, smoke filled the air

and a quiet song began to play

in my heart, unsung to a hundred moons;

made the birds sit still and listen.

Waves of years and baggage unclaimed

tossed in the unfettered youth of life

I come looking for resolution

and the song plays on, even tonight as Orion

floats exhausted on the starry knolls after the hunt,

the song will play.