Lynn McGregor

Night Wind

Third night of vision quest sitting alone on log
Knee deep in snow. Night wind softly singing through me.
Silence of spruces dreaming. Moonlight through fir trees.
Where is the meaning?

Midnight they came to me. Four wolves, standing there
in a line. Four pairs of glowing yellow eyes
Watching them watch me, touching deep places in me
Then suddenly they left

Etched by frost, delicate patterns of spider webs
What are the intricate designs of my life?
The message of the wolves? Wisdom of the trees?
Night song, sing for me

One comment on “Lynn McGregor

  1. Lynn,
    I have written a history of the Guardian/New Age newspaper. It has been
    published by Unisa Press in South Africa and Michigan State University
    Press in the U.S. I would love to read your memoir. I interviewed your
    parents while researching the book in the mid-1990s.

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