it could be a thousand years

how we all wake in the darkness
in order to stand at the foot of the twin mountains
from which the deer dancers descent
as the sun casts its pink light
on the snow covered jemez behind us
_______
the white smudge from corn meal
on crow’s shoulder
where the shawled women, one after another
bless him as he crows past
_______
it could be a thousand years ago and
everything would look exactly the same
debbie says as the sun lands
on the bright fabric draped and swathed
over the kachina dancers,
as the bells strung across waists
and on ankles ring out,
as the white and gold/tan of moccasins
press, rhythmic, into the earth,
as the leather pulled taut
across the tops of red green blue yellow orange
drums sounds

the sun, weaving itself through the low caws of crow,
the high shrieks of owl and the
high simultaneous calls
of the kachinas
_______
what steve didn’t know
is that we’re both witches i say
walking alongside debbie
who puts her non cane-holding hand on my shoulder
for support
as we move under the entrance
that john wayne built.
pink/orange/yellow sand
under our feet
_______
liz stooping down with a broken-off branch
to rake and clear the debris out of
grandmother spring which trickles
its way down the dirt road and meets
up with the running waters
of the santa cruz river
_______
we needed that debbie says
of the laughter in these rough months
_______
the red poke-cake and
orange fluffy desert and
posole and green/red chile stew
and calbacitas and bread pudding that we fill
our plates and stomachs with
around evelyns seats-8 table
in her family-and-friends filled house
where it is rude to refuse
the invitation if it has been extended
as the act of those feasting brings health and goodness
_______
from the water world:
1e09a284-91bd-4f50-9d8a-be16d03190d8_w987_s_s
Fire trucks extinguish a fire at a TonenGeneral Sekiyu KK’s oil refinery in Arida, Wakayama Prefecture, western Japan, in this photo taken by Kyodo. – voice of america, day in photos

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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