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.