Daily Diary, Day 754:
DANCE-DANCE-DANCE
Seasons dance to the orange of poppied:
Through arctic seasons,
burning spirits
of ice and cold
dance
to the drum beats
of their mother sun.
Beasts dance to the red of blood:
In the world
of san-turned seasons,
sea beasts
and high-land caribou
dance
on clouds of hunger
with the ice and wind.
People dance to the white of cold:
In the point
and counterpoint of wind and cold,
in the pas de deux
of ebbing seal
and flowing caribou
Inuit
move
in a sacred place
of life and death
--Joseph Locke