These from the gourds along the old fields
of our people a thousand years ago
and they are in my hand this day.
First, I introduce myself, the child
of the child of the old ones.
I listen to where they wish to live,
ask them about the birds they need,
the butterflies, insects when they blossom,
and sing to them songs
some say are forgotten,
the words for placing them in earth
and I promise to protect them
and paint the house as the old ones did
with the flowers, the plants, the lizards
and vines, and believe, yes, there is renewal,
because this is what the seeds ask of us
with their own songs
when we listen to their small bundle of creation,
the future rising from the ground,
climbing out.