From the veins of our fathers

There is ancient memory that flows in human blood

Fragments of fire, stone, hunger, distant thunder of a flood

A scent in the air, raising hair, a feel an animal stare

The angle of the sun that leads farmers to despair

It shows itself in shivers traveling up the spine

Premonition that delivers messages of the divine

The wind whispers a warning taste in the mouth

If north ice and cold, a drouth from the south

Ants build on high ground knowing of coming rain

Birds fly south, time to harvest ripe grain

Signs and seasons cast in shadows short and long

Harbingers of good and evil in a bird song

Coded messages in crawling skin, to hark

Of unseen danger warned lurking in the dark