Go then, Great Bear, to your den beside the frozen pond,
and there retreat as the Cold Moon
traces its arc in the star-frosted sky.
Sleep now, for winter is long,
your breathing slow and shallow
as the sun tosses its golden coin
and turns to catch it.
Dream, now, of roots and berries,
of the plant medicine that will heal us when we awaken
with the sun’s return.
Rest, as Ursa Major, your spirit cousin in the sky,
points the way to Polaris
and shows us each
the way to our true north.