Here it comes. Old Crane Woman’s egg is hatching. Here it comes. See her there, eyes closed, bony grey face turned up to the sky? She’s hatching her egg. The storm has made a clean sweep of it, cleared out the old to make room for the new. And Old Crane Woman is waiting.
Tap tap tap – a tiny pinhole on the surface of the shell. Tap tap tap – a hairline crack around the broad end. Tap tap tap – the earth trembles in anticipation. Tap tap tap – the river stops in full flow. Tap tap tap – the trees in the wood stand still, and bend their tall heads to see what Old Crane Woman is hatching.
Crack. Old Crane Woman lifts herself off the egg. Crack. The shell is opening now. Can you see what’s inside? Can you see what Old Crane Woman has hatched?
Old Crane Woman has hatched a seed. Yes, do you see it? She’s hatched a seed. It’s not just any seed; Old Crane Woman wouldn’t go hatching just any old seed. Old Crane Woman has hatched the seed of a new World Tree. A new World Tree, for the old one died long ago, when men delved deep into the earth and dug out its three long roots.
Old Crane Woman has hatched it. She’s hatched the seed of change. She’s hatched the seed of a new tree. It will hold up the sky and reconnect the nine worlds.
Will you help her plant it?
Tomorrow, she will plant it. Tomorrow, she will watch it grow.
Will you watch with her?