Creations, Part 5

Bestowal

Blue, the color of a jovial heart...
The feather guides the straight course
of the arrow,
swift in flight;
It falls, softly, to the ground.
When thunder rolls, it cannot be ignored,
nor denied.

Swift as the arrow,
The power of thunder;
Wielded with the softness
of the feather,
Guides the straight course.

Blue Feather Thunder...
The name, not lightly bestowed,
fell softly
on unworthy shoulders...

Creations, Part 2

A Walk in the Desert

Blue skies laugh as the popcorn clouds

Drift freely across the vast expanse.

The lightsome air dances about the Earth below

And lifts my heavy heart to the realms above.

Slowly, I walk through the valley of fire,

Scorched by the red coal rocks at my feet;

Fiery arrows fall from the blistering sun

And burrow into the nape of my sol-singed neck.

Needlepoint thorns pierce my leather fingertips

As I reach for the blood-red fruit of the prickly pear --

A lone taste of sweetness on a sour desert floor.

Ice cold water taunts the parched world

And sings in harmony with the dancing air.

I rest in the sweeping crystal bed,

And drink life into my withered veins.

And walk once more in the desert...