Cicatas

A very short summer poem

From above I hear their call,

It sinks down around me like the ancient chants of monks.

As I walk through the tunnel of sound I am empty,
lured by complex rhythms, primal cries,
sacred beings,
drawn inward to the place of knowing.

Music rises higher and higher,
Calling me deeper into Earth.
It fills my whole body with vibration,
Echoing in waves.

Wise and Holy their song travels,

Announcing the fullness of summer.