Outside at night
admiring the seven stars of the Dipper as it floats over her house
she asks how do you stay together in your constellation and not drift apart, leave each other, find new stars to align with?
The Dipper answers:
Bear sings to crow crow talks to others.
Seeds ride the butterfly’s wings Butterflies flap their wings and worlds collide Stars move around the galaxy but never leave home. There is a sun in everyone’s life – a mooring to oppose the random flight of wild freedom.
Evolving through plankton, amoeba, dinosaurs, bears, lobsters, butterflies, mountains and trees you own their DNA and you know them. Through them you are anchored to earth and through earth to the universe.
There is no family if not these tribes of nomads, these clans of non-relations, an expanding, elaborate lineage of dissimilars that hold the bloodline for all of us.
And you are part of a dynasty and royal house, knotted together by interlacing webs and snarls of lacework, fastened to the destiny of the universe, like the stars of the bear that sail over your house.