EVENING
Sun-Bearer parts the clouds
and looks down on the rain.
He turns each raindrop
into a silver bead.
He turns each rainstreak
into a silver necklace.
He makes a rainbow path
for the gods
across the sky.
I go among the sheep,
the huddled, wet sheep.
I sing to them.
I sing to the sheep,
a song, a song,
a song about my possessions,
my ceremonial goods.
I have a little buckskin bag
filled with things,
with things.
My grandfather filled it for me.
My grandfather gave it to me.
Wherever I go
I carry my little buckskin bag
to keep me safe,
to keep my feet
on the Trail of Beauty.
A song,
a song,
I am singing a song
to my sheep.
Just now on the home trail,
a young deer,
a beautiful young deer,
stood in the bushes
and looked at me.
His eyes were big and dark
and full of questions.
A song,
a song,
I am singing a song
on the home trail.
I have a necklace of
turquoise and coral.
I have a necklace of
white shell and coral.
My grandmother traded for them.
My grandmother gave them to me.
They are possessions.
I have turquoise in my ears,
silver bells on my belt fringe.
My uncle made them for me.
My uncle gave them to me.
They are my possessions.
A song,
a song,
I am singing a song
to my sheep.
My father has five kinds
of possessions.
He has hard goods
and soft goods,
ceremonial goods
and land
and game.
But I am little.
I do not have five kinds.
I have three.
I made a song about them
to sing the sheep home.
At last we reach the home camp.
The sheep are safe in their corral.
I am safe with my mother.
Summer shade is at my back.
In front of me is my mother's fire.
I am dry and warm.
Good food is cooking.
My mother sings,
and all around me
there is beauty.
