The Archers Who Moved - Thanksgiving

The rain will fall through the air

To make my hair heavy

And darker like the clouds

The air and I swing beneath

Now do you see me moving?

From the cold eyes in the lofts

Where our grandmas, grandmas stack the rocks

To make the rooms that make us soft

As the world moved

As they knew what it was

All bowing and arose

Their eyes turned to a river

Saw rain blow

The archers who moved

Were as the whales who wore lilies

Who touched the air