Wakinyans, 10-30-1994

walk the night sky
to the north.
Their passing
rustles the trees,
the scent of rain teases-
a soft promise of
sensuous rhythmic songs.

already dance in the far west.
Sparks of energy
flash as the rattles
and feathers of the ancient ones
touch the edges of the earth.

Welcome! Wakinyans!
I want to dance with the rain spirits.
I want to dance in the rain.


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