Voices in the soft rose dawning,
whispered still in respect of Grandmothers rising,
gentle thoughts of the day to come,
prayers said in the water,
faces lifted to catch the golden glowing above the mountains.
Bubbling laughter from the river,
speaks of the joy Mother Earth is feeling,
life blood that feeds her children,
new green across the fields causing hearts to lift and sing,
once again we are remembered.
Cold time once more behind us,
fresh sweet plants and roots to gather,
hunger held away by the gifting of Creators way,
looking forward to the births
of animal, plant, man, and birds.
Shadows deepen as the day grows older,
so much to do the cleaning started,
lodges repaired from the winters harshness,
swept out, aired out, preparing for the cleansing,
sending away all the bad spirits.
Children running in their games,
healthy, happy, and filling out,watching, learning, listening well,
to all the wisdom their Elders tell,
hoping to one day pass it on themselves,
to those who are their own future.
The hunters speak of prayers needed,
gather away to themselves,
meat they will bring home to their peoples,
new skins to replace worn shoes and clothing,
but first they give thanks that they are able.
Grandmothers cluster at the fires,
planning out the days good meal,
chuckle at the children's antics,
calling the little girls to help, teaching them to take their place,
giving them pride in themselves.
Grandfathers calling to the young boys,
teaching them things they must know,
tomorrows warriors they will be, the hunters and protectors of their people,
sharing wisdom passed down for ages.
Father Sky a living blue,
clear and bright you can see for miles,
yet upon the mountain the mist still lies,
like tobacco smoke offered to cleanse the whole world,
a beauty that words alone will not describe.
Selu planted is watched over,
tiny spears of deep green magic is the corn,
surrounded and supported by beans and squash,
these are the heart of the Peoples foods,
the winter fare that wards off starving.
Day by day it is growing warmer,
blackberries bloom, wild grape is growing,
so much bounty ours to share,
with the four legs and the feathered, the budding nut trees everywhere
hold a promise for tomorrow.
As the old ones look around,
satisfied they have done their best,
gentle days of work and play, a happy People caring for each other,
praying there is no need for war walks, a peaceful path is what they want.
as told by my grandmother