I have lived where the crow's harsh cry shatters the morning
and in this city where the large raven
goes by his smaller cousin's name
I've seen the raven that the Haida claim
and know his clan
from distant legend
to the tree behind my house
his voice forever
makes his name.
Long ago no divisions existed between humans, animals and spirits. All things of the earth, sky, and, water were connected and all beings could pass freely between them. The Raven was a trickster full of supernatural power. He stole the sun from his grandfather Nasshahkeeyalhl and made the moon and stars from it. The Raven created lakes, rivers and filled the lands with trees. He divided night and day, then pulled the tides into a rhythm. He filled the streams with fresh water, scattered the eggs of salmon and trout, and placed animals in the forests. The first human was hiding in a giant clamshell and Raven released them onto the beaches and gave humans fire. Raven disappeared and took with him the power of the spirit world to communicate and connect with humans.
A Canadian octogenarian, Fran grew up on the edge of the far north, went to a tiny country school, became a teacher, her childhood ambition for she had counted her teacher's thirteen pairs of shoes. She taught in small schools for a few years and left for the west coast of Canada the year the snow fell higher than telephone poles.
In British Columbia, Fran went to a northern island city where she met her husband, a teacher too. During the next forty years she had two children, taught, went to university almost every summer, gained a couple of degrees, administered large high school libraries, taught summers and nights for UBC, worked in Australia and, on her retirement returned to UBC to study creative writing.
Widowed, writing became her doorway to friendship, and a new life on the edge of the most western city in the world with a new love who shared her interest in poetry. Fran has long been interested in computer communication and found a home base on the internet with the Soul Food Cafe when Heather Blakey and she began a correspondence some years ago.
- Visit and you will find Fran's poems and digital paintings. Make sure to view more of her work at Soul Food.
Fran Sbrocchi is a much loved, whimsical crone who has enchanted fellow travellers with her delightful impressions of travelling within Lemuuria. Here she is setting out, her carriage being pulled by a loyal member of her Donkey Union, to White Owl Island, a land of her dreaming, a land she remembers, a world she can never forget.
A hammock has been set up
for each of you
who come to visit
The priestesses wait
to whisper wisdom
and the Great White Owl
will watch over you
while you find gentle sleep
Today the priestesses on our island
have been weaving sunlight and green
A quilt of gentle warmth in hope
that the Gypsy queen will come once more
dance with them her graceful saraband
and rest at midnight under the white moon
Please don't let the owls know that we are hiding on their island. I hope one of the dear visitors will hang her hammock On our tree and keep our store room safe. We promise not to chew the ropes or drop from the branches onto your quilt. Tiny says you can have two of his best pecans for your desert. Signed Tiny and George, residents.
Many many Owl Moons have passed since Oman Mishogan carved the sign of the
Great White Owl, Ruler and Majesty and left it on the Island . This week the priestess, walking in the garden found the carving in the Garden of the Moonflower and brought it, with ceremony to the prow of the Island. Tonight their will be a sacred dance and a raising. Tonight the in the Circle of the Queen there will be dancing. All guests are asked to wear white. The Secretary