MELTING SNOW WATER
The sheep are wet and cold.
They are hungry, too.
If the snow keeps falling,
it will be bad for the sheep.
Perhaps
that is why the wind cries.
Perhaps
the wind is sorry
for the sheep.
That is what I think.
My mother talks to my father.
Together
they go out to shovel snow.
The ruffles on my mother's skirts
make pretty marks on the top
of the snow whiteness.
My mother and my father
shovel a round place
clean of snow
out near the sheep corral.
They will build a fire
to melt snow into water
to give to the sheep.
It takes much wood
to make a fire
to melt snow into water,
but if the sheep have water
to drink
they do not hunger so much.
When the round place
is clear of snow,
my mother comes into the hogan
for dry wood
to make the outdoor fire.
She picks a stick
from our small pile
beside the fire.
She picks another
until she has a little armful.
My mother picks them up slowly
for our pile is so small.
My father comes into the hogan.
He stamps his feet.
Little hills of dirty snow
melt slowly by them
on the hogan floor.
It takes a lot of snow
in my mother's washtub
to melt enough water
for the sheep.
When my mother comes again
into the hogan
she is tired.
Her poor face
is dark with cold.
I put my arms
around my mother's knees.
It is the only way I know
to show her
that I am sorry she is cold.
