I forget I’m in this world
with crooked chiefs
who make federal deals.
In the first light
I remember who rewards me for living,
not bosses
but singing birds and blue sky.
I know I can bathe and stretch,
make jewelry and love
the witch and wise woman
living inside, needing to be silenced
and put at rest for work’s long day.
In the first light
I offer cornmeal
and tobacco.
I say hello to those who came before me
and to birds
under the eaves,
and budding plants.
And every morning I remember the song
about how buffalo left through a hole in the sky
and how the grandmothers look out from those holes
watching over us
from there and from there.
for Robin