The serpent in the bowels of the underworld
shifts in the wind’s four directions:
Katungdan
Amihan
Sidlangan
Bagatnan
Let the trail of its breath
guide the tiller and the rudder,
the lathe and the loom.
Let our tin-can hearts make a din
of our sorrows, our meagre ransom
for the world’s seven moons.
In response to Via Negativa: Tintinnabulous.