A poem to the mother of all living.
A poem in celebration of the loving interaction of Sun and Moon throughout the year. Written as an ancient ballad, this song follows the lunar calendar of a people from my novel, “Across Bright Realms”.
Of all directions, North is youngest; of all lands was North raised last: pole-clinging, mountain-bracing, glacier-bearing, winter-blasting, storm-wielding, darkness lair. Of all lands was North the best.