God's drum, and other cycles from Indian lore

Chapter 9: THE PINES ARE THINKING

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About This Book

A sequence of poems evokes dawn through dusk, prairie winds and dust, ritual dances and spirit songs, and mythic reckonings framed as a red apocalypse. Later cycles portray terraced Pueblo landscapes, potters, corn maidens, and ruined pueblos, while final pieces invoke Aztec gods and cosmology. The language is lyrical and imagistic, alternating intimate observation of natural life with ceremonially inflected reflections on death, renewal, and the drumlike rhythms of the earth.

THE PINES ARE THINKING

The cottonwood trees,

growing in clumps,

They are very loquacious,

conversing with one another.

But the tall pines

are like men in meditation,

They seldom have anything to say.

In winter the leaves of the cottonwoods

are fallen,

Their branches are shelterless;

But the pine-trees are always green.