Shapeshifter

This is a poem about shapeshifting.

I call forth the noble raven of

 

ancient history

 

I dive into the tornado of

 

swirling imagination

 

I take the path from the

 

panther of new beginnings

 

I pass through the tangled

 

moss-green of shadows

 

I bend through the thunderclap

 

into lost time

 

I leave behind the dark cave

 

through 13 doorways

 

I weave through the

 

meandering dream with

 

dark joy

 

I'm returned to the canopy of a

 

weeping willow into roaming light