I'm wondering about you, when your fur and antlers and scales and wings and claws and sharpest teeth have grown in fully, when you can walk through a forest on the darkest of New Moon nights and are able to see everything, and though your footfalls are silent, the pads of your feet sing epic poems to the mycelium who sing these to the trees whose leaves bud and unfurl and photosynthesize in response. I’m wondering about your underbelly, when you lie on your back and turn this tenderness to the Stars and a Moonless sky…wondering what the Heart inside your Heart—the seed, patiently waiting for a particular water to fall upon it—that is so still and quiet inside your courageous boisterous blood-filled Heart that at times you might forget its presence…I’m wondering about what waters, what flavors, will awaken that inner Heart.