A near dark waning moon on this auspicious day of dance and balance between light and dark, the wheel of the year moves onward in it's seemingly endless rotation. This day is the shortest, this night the longest, we are at the lowest turn of the wheel. Hairs turn silver while the crows fly on with loud gutteral calls, "onward! Onward where the fate weavers wait for no man or woman!"

I played a yellow cedar F minor flute I made recently along with a pre-recorded backing track of drum and singing bowl.