You enclose me in your hand,
and like the needle of a compass
I find the way.

You alight on the water,
and like the snow goose
I wing it to the cornfield.

Your light shines at night,
mirrored in the sky, 
and my feet find the path.

You gurgle in the stream,
and my ear guides me to the stream,
fed by snowmelt.

Your breath spins 
clouds from ocean
to shade me from the heat.

When I am weary
you let drop ribbons of night,
like a mother hen

shielding her young
with her feathered shawl.