GOING HOME
After the sun has gone,
my mother's sheep
and I,
we walk together, slowly,
to my mother's hogan
and the corral.
Most all the day
my mother
from her hogan door
has watched me
and the sheep
to see
that no harm came to us.
And now
my mother comes to meet us.
She comes to welcome us
as if we had been gone
a long way,
a long time.
Sometimes
my father's singing
comes to meet us
across the sandwash.
It comes to meet us
to sing us home.
Sometimes,
the smoke
from the supper fire
comes to meet us
across the dark blue
of the night sky.
For me the hogan is waiting
and the corral
waits for the sheep.
