GOING TO THE SING
My father goes for dry wood.
He has to go to the foothills
to get it.
My mother cooks bread and meat.
I sit by the door in the sunshine
and think about the Sing.
My grandmother comes
to my mother's hogan.
She will look after the sheep
while we are gone to the Sing.
The sun shines.
The sun shines.
Soon we will go
to the Sing,
the Sing.
After awhile
my father comes back with
the wagon.
He piles the wood near the hogan.
He says he is ready
to go to the Sing
and we are ready, too.
It is not far.
Not long after
the sun has finished with the day
we will get there.
We will get to the hogan
of the wife of Tall-Man's brother.
We will be at the Sing,
the Sing,
the Sing.
The ruts in the road
are deep
and frozen.
The wheels of the wagon
have a song of their own.
I sit in the back of the wagon
in a nest made of blankets.
I listen to the song
of the rolling wagon wheels.
My father sits on the wagon seat.
He is driving his horses.
My mother sits beside him.
Straight and tall
my mother sits
on the wagon seat
beside my father.
My father sings
as he drives along.
He is happy.
He sings, "Now is winter.
Thunder sleeps.
Falls the snow.
Thunder sleeps.
Grass is gone.
Thunder sleeps.
Birds are gone.
Thunder sleeps.
Warmth is gone from the sands,
from the red rocks,
from the canyons.
Thunder sleeps.
It sleeps."
In my father's wagon
we go.
Behind my father's horses
we go.
On the trail of the Holy Songs
we go
to hear the voices of the Gods.
