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