IN SPRING

This morning,when I crawledfrom under my blanket,when I stoodbefore my mother's hogan door,outside lookedas if it had been crying.The sky was hanging heavywith gray tears.I stood at the doorof my mother's hoganand looked outat the gray, sad morning.My father came.He stood beside us.He spokein a happy wayto meand to my mother.Then the gray tearson the sky's facemelted.The clouds pushed awayand the sunsmiled through them.Now it is gray again,but I cannot forgetthat when my father spokethe sun cameand looked downupon us.

This morning,when I crawledfrom under my blanket,when I stoodbefore my mother's hogan door,outside lookedas if it had been crying.

This morning,

when I crawled

from under my blanket,

when I stood

before my mother's hogan door,

outside looked

as if it had been crying.

The sky was hanging heavywith gray tears.

The sky was hanging heavy

with gray tears.

I stood at the doorof my mother's hoganand looked outat the gray, sad morning.

I stood at the door

of my mother's hogan

and looked out

at the gray, sad morning.

My father came.

He stood beside us.

He spokein a happy wayto meand to my mother.

He spoke

in a happy way

to me

and to my mother.

Then the gray tearson the sky's facemelted.

Then the gray tears

on the sky's face

melted.

The clouds pushed awayand the sunsmiled through them.

The clouds pushed away

and the sun

smiled through them.

Now it is gray again,but I cannot forgetthat when my father spokethe sun cameand looked downupon us.

Now it is gray again,

but I cannot forget

that when my father spoke

the sun came

and looked down

upon us.

My mother's hogan is dryagainst the gray mistsof morning.My mother's hogan is warmagainst the gray coldof morning.I sit in the middleof its rounded walls,walls that my father builtof juniper and good earth.Walls that my father blessedwith song and corn pollen.Here in the middleof my mother's hoganI sitbecause I am happy.

My mother's hogan is dryagainst the gray mistsof morning.

My mother's hogan is dry

against the gray mists

of morning.

My mother's hogan is warmagainst the gray coldof morning.

My mother's hogan is warm

against the gray cold

of morning.

I sit in the middleof its rounded walls,walls that my father builtof juniper and good earth.

I sit in the middle

of its rounded walls,

walls that my father built

of juniper and good earth.

Walls that my father blessedwith song and corn pollen.

Walls that my father blessed

with song and corn pollen.

Here in the middleof my mother's hoganI sitbecause I am happy.

Here in the middle

of my mother's hogan

I sit

because I am happy.

On the firein the middle of her hoganmy mother cooks food.My mothermakes fried breadand coffee,and she cooks mutton ribsover the coals.My fatherand Iand my mother,we sit on the floortogether,and we eatthe good foodthat my motherhas cooked for us.

On the firein the middle of her hoganmy mother cooks food.

On the fire

in the middle of her hogan

my mother cooks food.

My mothermakes fried breadand coffee,and she cooks mutton ribsover the coals.

My mother

makes fried bread

and coffee,

and she cooks mutton ribs

over the coals.

My fatherand Iand my mother,we sit on the floortogether,and we eatthe good foodthat my motherhas cooked for us.

My father

and I

and my mother,

we sit on the floor

together,

and we eat

the good food

that my mother

has cooked for us.

We have many things.My motherhas many sheepand goatsand her hoganand the thingsof the hoganand me.My fatherhas many horses.On his landhe has many horses.He has a wagonnear the horse corral.Inside my mother's hoganmy father keeps his gun,and outsidehe hangs his sheepskinand his saddleand his blanket.And Ihave my motherand my father,three baby lambsand a catwith a long tail.I have a treethat I know.It is a little tree.It is a crooked treeon the top of a hill.It knows me, too,I think,because it bends down lowto let me climb itto hide away.Behind my mother's hoganis Beautiful Mountain.It is mine,I know,because alwaysit is looking at meto make me happy.We have many things.All of ushave many things.One daymy father told methat all The Peoplehad possessions.He said,"Sheep and horsesfor the men and the womenand land for all.That is enough."My father said this.But I thinkthere should be morethan sheep and horsesand land for all.There should be little girlsfor little girls to play with.That would be enough,I think.

We have many things.

My motherhas many sheepand goatsand her hoganand the thingsof the hoganand me.

My mother

has many sheep

and goats

and her hogan

and the things

of the hogan

and me.

My fatherhas many horses.

My father

has many horses.

On his landhe has many horses.

On his land

he has many horses.

He has a wagonnear the horse corral.

He has a wagon

near the horse corral.

Inside my mother's hoganmy father keeps his gun,and outsidehe hangs his sheepskinand his saddleand his blanket.

Inside my mother's hogan

my father keeps his gun,

and outside

he hangs his sheepskin

and his saddle

and his blanket.

And Ihave my motherand my father,three baby lambsand a catwith a long tail.

And I

have my mother

and my father,

three baby lambs

and a cat

with a long tail.

I have a treethat I know.

I have a tree

that I know.

It is a little tree.

It is a crooked treeon the top of a hill.

It is a crooked tree

on the top of a hill.

It knows me, too,I think,because it bends down lowto let me climb itto hide away.

It knows me, too,

I think,

because it bends down low

to let me climb it

to hide away.

Behind my mother's hoganis Beautiful Mountain.

Behind my mother's hogan

is Beautiful Mountain.

It is mine,I know,because alwaysit is looking at meto make me happy.

It is mine,

I know,

because always

it is looking at me

to make me happy.

We have many things.

All of ushave many things.

All of us

have many things.

One daymy father told methat all The Peoplehad possessions.

One day

my father told me

that all The People

had possessions.

He said,"Sheep and horsesfor the men and the womenand land for all.

He said,

"Sheep and horses

for the men and the women

and land for all.

That is enough."

My father said this.

But I thinkthere should be morethan sheep and horsesand land for all.

But I think

there should be more

than sheep and horses

and land for all.

There should be little girlsfor little girls to play with.

There should be little girls

for little girls to play with.

That would be enough,I think.

That would be enough,

I think.

Near my mother's hoganis the sheep corral,a hard packed placefenced with poles.There is a treefor shade.There is a shelterfor lambsin the sheep corral.The sheep stand togetherin their corral.They stand closeto each other.I thinksheep like to knowthat they are many.SometimesI think that way.I thinkthat there are many childrenall around me,all about me.When I am herdingand I cannot see my mother,it is goodto playthat many childrenstand together with me,and that all outsideis my corral.

Near my mother's hoganis the sheep corral,a hard packed placefenced with poles.

Near my mother's hogan

is the sheep corral,

a hard packed place

fenced with poles.

There is a treefor shade.

There is a tree

for shade.

There is a shelterfor lambsin the sheep corral.

There is a shelter

for lambs

in the sheep corral.

The sheep stand togetherin their corral.

The sheep stand together

in their corral.

They stand closeto each other.

They stand close

to each other.

I thinksheep like to knowthat they are many.

I think

sheep like to know

that they are many.

SometimesI think that way.

Sometimes

I think that way.

I thinkthat there are many childrenall around me,all about me.

I think

that there are many children

all around me,

all about me.

When I am herdingand I cannot see my mother,it is goodto playthat many childrenstand together with me,and that all outsideis my corral.

When I am herding

and I cannot see my mother,

it is good

to play

that many children

stand together with me,

and that all outside

is my corral.

Far from the hoganin a dry sand washI found the gray dogand a new baby puppygray with black spots.Poor little puppy,it crawled to mecrying.Thin little baby,its pink cold nosefound my hand.Soft baby puppy,it was so littleit made me feel gentleand stronglike my mother.When I picked it up,the gray mother dogdid not growl.She was glad for meto want her puppy.She thumped her tail.Listen,you gray pup with black spots,I will teach youto watch the sheepso that alwaysthere will be a place for youin our hogan.

Far from the hoganin a dry sand washI found the gray dogand a new baby puppygray with black spots.

Far from the hogan

in a dry sand wash

I found the gray dog

and a new baby puppy

gray with black spots.

Poor little puppy,it crawled to mecrying.

Poor little puppy,

it crawled to me

crying.

Thin little baby,its pink cold nosefound my hand.

Thin little baby,

its pink cold nose

found my hand.

Soft baby puppy,it was so littleit made me feel gentleand stronglike my mother.

Soft baby puppy,

it was so little

it made me feel gentle

and strong

like my mother.

When I picked it up,the gray mother dogdid not growl.

When I picked it up,

the gray mother dog

did not growl.

She was glad for meto want her puppy.

She was glad for me

to want her puppy.

She thumped her tail.

Listen,you gray pup with black spots,I will teach youto watch the sheepso that alwaysthere will be a place for youin our hogan.

Listen,

you gray pup with black spots,

I will teach you

to watch the sheep

so that always

there will be a place for you

in our hogan.

The waterhole hides awaybehind the red rocks,but my sheepknow where to find it.Their little feethave made a deep trailfrom the corralto the waterhole.

The waterhole hides awaybehind the red rocks,but my sheepknow where to find it.

The waterhole hides away

behind the red rocks,

but my sheep

know where to find it.

Their little feethave made a deep trailfrom the corralto the waterhole.

Their little feet

have made a deep trail

from the corral

to the waterhole.

In a little deltaof seepage waternear the waterholeis a small placethat my father has fencedto make a homefor the corn,for the squashand the melons.It is too cold now,but soon,when the snow meltsand hides away in the warm sand,my father will go to his field.There he will makethe soil ready for planting.He will break throughthe hard crust of winterand turn up toward the sunlittle lumps of fresh earth.I like to go with my fatherto his fieldbecauseI like the feel and the smellof new earthwhen it first sees the sun.I want my father to take mewith himwhen he goes to plant the cornbecauseI forgethow he does it.

In a little deltaof seepage waternear the waterholeis a small placethat my father has fencedto make a homefor the corn,for the squashand the melons.

In a little delta

of seepage water

near the waterhole

is a small place

that my father has fenced

to make a home

for the corn,

for the squash

and the melons.

It is too cold now,but soon,when the snow meltsand hides away in the warm sand,my father will go to his field.

It is too cold now,

but soon,

when the snow melts

and hides away in the warm sand,

my father will go to his field.

There he will makethe soil ready for planting.

There he will make

the soil ready for planting.

He will break throughthe hard crust of winterand turn up toward the sunlittle lumps of fresh earth.

He will break through

the hard crust of winter

and turn up toward the sun

little lumps of fresh earth.

I like to go with my fatherto his fieldbecauseI like the feel and the smellof new earthwhen it first sees the sun.

I like to go with my father

to his field

because

I like the feel and the smell

of new earth

when it first sees the sun.

I want my father to take mewith himwhen he goes to plant the cornbecauseI forgethow he does it.

I want my father to take me

with him

when he goes to plant the corn

because

I forget

how he does it.

The little lambs are born.Near the waterholemy mother makes sheltersof green boughsfor the mother sheep.Therein the sheltersthe little lambs are born.The green boughsstand close together,they do not let the snownor the windnor the sandcome into hurt the lambs.Soon the lambswill be big enoughto play with me.

The little lambs are born.

Near the waterholemy mother makes sheltersof green boughsfor the mother sheep.

Near the waterhole

my mother makes shelters

of green boughs

for the mother sheep.

Therein the sheltersthe little lambs are born.

There

in the shelters

the little lambs are born.

The green boughsstand close together,they do not let the snownor the windnor the sandcome into hurt the lambs.

The green boughs

stand close together,

they do not let the snow

nor the wind

nor the sand

come in

to hurt the lambs.

Soon the lambswill be big enoughto play with me.

Soon the lambs

will be big enough

to play with me.

All day I herdmy mother's sheep.The sheep and I,we have a way of goingthat is always the same.From the corral we goto the waterholeand through the arroyoto the sagebrushthen back again.Outside is roundlike the sheep corral.Outside is roundlike my mother's hogan,but it is bigger.Outside is big,big,so big.Sometimeswhen I am alonewith my mother's sheep,I am afraid.

All day I herdmy mother's sheep.

All day I herd

my mother's sheep.

The sheep and I,we have a way of goingthat is always the same.

The sheep and I,

we have a way of going

that is always the same.

From the corral we goto the waterholeand through the arroyoto the sagebrushthen back again.

From the corral we go

to the waterhole

and through the arroyo

to the sagebrush

then back again.

Outside is roundlike the sheep corral.

Outside is round

like the sheep corral.

Outside is roundlike my mother's hogan,but it is bigger.

Outside is round

like my mother's hogan,

but it is bigger.

Outside is big,big,so big.

Outside is big,

big,

so big.

Sometimeswhen I am alonewith my mother's sheep,I am afraid.

Sometimes

when I am alone

with my mother's sheep,

I am afraid.

I cannot saywith wordsthe thingsthat make me afraidbecause I do not knowwhat they are.But sometimesoutside is so stilland bigand emptyand I am so little.The red rocksare so highand Beautiful Mountainbehind my mother's hoganseems far away.Nothing walks with me,but the sheep,just the sheep,and I am so littlewalking alongin the big outside.I am so little,I am afraid.And thennear byI see my motherat her hogan door.The red rocksseem to bend downto look at mein a good wayand Beautiful Mountaincomes closer.All things are good againbecausemy mother is near me.I am not afraid.Today is cold.There is windand snowand sandand always wind.I take the sheepto the waterholeand the wind goes with us.

I cannot saywith wordsthe thingsthat make me afraidbecause I do not knowwhat they are.

I cannot say

with words

the things

that make me afraid

because I do not know

what they are.

But sometimesoutside is so stilland bigand emptyand I am so little.

But sometimes

outside is so still

and big

and empty

and I am so little.

The red rocksare so highand Beautiful Mountainbehind my mother's hoganseems far away.

The red rocks

are so high

and Beautiful Mountain

behind my mother's hogan

seems far away.

Nothing walks with me,but the sheep,just the sheep,and I am so littlewalking alongin the big outside.

Nothing walks with me,

but the sheep,

just the sheep,

and I am so little

walking along

in the big outside.

I am so little,I am afraid.

I am so little,

I am afraid.

And thennear byI see my motherat her hogan door.

And then

near by

I see my mother

at her hogan door.

The red rocksseem to bend downto look at mein a good wayand Beautiful Mountaincomes closer.

The red rocks

seem to bend down

to look at me

in a good way

and Beautiful Mountain

comes closer.

All things are good againbecausemy mother is near me.

All things are good again

because

my mother is near me.

I am not afraid.

Today is cold.

There is windand snowand sandand always wind.

There is wind

and snow

and sand

and always wind.

I take the sheepto the waterholeand the wind goes with us.

I take the sheep

to the waterhole

and the wind goes with us.

I have little bellson my belt fringe.Little bells,silver bells,hanging on my belt fringe.My mother has a tin canfilled with stones.She rattles itto tell the sheepto hurry.But I have little bellstied to my belt fringe.When I runthe little bells laughand say to the sheep,"Hurry,hurry."

I have little bellson my belt fringe.

I have little bells

on my belt fringe.

Little bells,silver bells,hanging on my belt fringe.

Little bells,

silver bells,

hanging on my belt fringe.

My mother has a tin canfilled with stones.

My mother has a tin can

filled with stones.

She rattles itto tell the sheepto hurry.

She rattles it

to tell the sheep

to hurry.

But I have little bellstied to my belt fringe.

But I have little bells

tied to my belt fringe.

When I runthe little bells laughand say to the sheep,"Hurry,hurry."

When I run

the little bells laugh

and say to the sheep,

"Hurry,

hurry."

Todaythe cold comesin gray cloudsof blowing snow.The little lambsstand close to their mothers.They thinkthe cold has come to stay.Yesterday the sky was blueand the sun warmed the land.The lambs do not knowthat sometimescold days make mistakesand come againafter they should have gone away.They do not knowthat tomorrow will be warm again.

Todaythe cold comesin gray cloudsof blowing snow.

Today

the cold comes

in gray clouds

of blowing snow.

The little lambsstand close to their mothers.

The little lambs

stand close to their mothers.

They thinkthe cold has come to stay.

They think

the cold has come to stay.

Yesterday the sky was blueand the sun warmed the land.

Yesterday the sky was blue

and the sun warmed the land.

The lambs do not knowthat sometimescold days make mistakesand come againafter they should have gone away.

The lambs do not know

that sometimes

cold days make mistakes

and come again

after they should have gone away.

They do not knowthat tomorrow will be warm again.

They do not know

that tomorrow will be warm again.

They have not been herelong enoughto know these thingsand their mothershave not told them.My motheris watching the lambs.She will not let themget too cold.My father says,"Next yearI will try the white-man's wayof breeding the sheep.Then the lambswill be born later,when summer has come to stay."My mother says, "Yes,next yearwe will try that way."

They have not been herelong enoughto know these thingsand their mothershave not told them.

They have not been here

long enough

to know these things

and their mothers

have not told them.

My motheris watching the lambs.

My mother

is watching the lambs.

She will not let themget too cold.

She will not let them

get too cold.

My father says,"Next yearI will try the white-man's wayof breeding the sheep.

My father says,

"Next year

I will try the white-man's way

of breeding the sheep.

Then the lambswill be born later,when summer has come to stay."

Then the lambs

will be born later,

when summer has come to stay."

My mother says, "Yes,next yearwe will try that way."

My mother says, "Yes,

next year

we will try that way."

There are many thingsabout the windthat I do not know.I have not seen the wind,and no one has told mewhere the wind lives,or where it is goingwhen I hear itand when I feel itrushing by.And something moreI do not know about the wind.I do not know if it is angryor if it is playingand just doing the things it doesfor fun.Sometimesthe wind gathers the sandinto whirlwindsand makes them danceover the flat landsuntil they are tiredand lie downto get their breath.Sometimesthe wind bends the wild grassdown to the ground,and makes the sagebrushbow its headas if a giant moccasinhad stepped on themin passing.Today the wind makes thetumbleweedslook like sheepjumping off high banksand racing up arroyoswith no dog to guard them,with no herder to guide them.Poor tumbleweeds are frightenedbecausethey do not know where to go.I want someone to tell meif the wind is angryor if it is playing with meand racing with meand my many skirtsacross the sand.When the wind blowsmy long skirts,my many skirtsare in a hurryto get to the hoganwhere the windcannot push them.They pull me alongwhen I am walkingand my feethave a hard timeto keep upwith my skirts.

There are many thingsabout the windthat I do not know.

There are many things

about the wind

that I do not know.

I have not seen the wind,and no one has told mewhere the wind lives,or where it is goingwhen I hear itand when I feel itrushing by.

I have not seen the wind,

and no one has told me

where the wind lives,

or where it is going

when I hear it

and when I feel it

rushing by.

And something moreI do not know about the wind.

And something more

I do not know about the wind.

I do not know if it is angryor if it is playingand just doing the things it doesfor fun.

I do not know if it is angry

or if it is playing

and just doing the things it does

for fun.

Sometimesthe wind gathers the sandinto whirlwindsand makes them danceover the flat landsuntil they are tiredand lie downto get their breath.

Sometimes

the wind gathers the sand

into whirlwinds

and makes them dance

over the flat lands

until they are tired

and lie down

to get their breath.

Sometimesthe wind bends the wild grassdown to the ground,and makes the sagebrushbow its headas if a giant moccasinhad stepped on themin passing.

Sometimes

the wind bends the wild grass

down to the ground,

and makes the sagebrush

bow its head

as if a giant moccasin

had stepped on them

in passing.

Today the wind makes thetumbleweedslook like sheepjumping off high banksand racing up arroyoswith no dog to guard them,with no herder to guide them.

Today the wind makes the

tumbleweeds

look like sheep

jumping off high banks

and racing up arroyos

with no dog to guard them,

with no herder to guide them.

Poor tumbleweeds are frightenedbecausethey do not know where to go.

Poor tumbleweeds are frightened

because

they do not know where to go.

I want someone to tell meif the wind is angryor if it is playing with meand racing with meand my many skirtsacross the sand.

I want someone to tell me

if the wind is angry

or if it is playing with me

and racing with me

and my many skirts

across the sand.

When the wind blowsmy long skirts,my many skirtsare in a hurryto get to the hoganwhere the windcannot push them.

When the wind blows

my long skirts,

my many skirts

are in a hurry

to get to the hogan

where the wind

cannot push them.

They pull me alongwhen I am walkingand my feethave a hard timeto keep upwith my skirts.

They pull me along

when I am walking

and my feet

have a hard time

to keep up

with my skirts.

Now it is middle-time of day.The sheep stand still.The shadows sit under the trees.Everything is resting,the sunand the sheepand the shadows.I, too, rest.And I look at Beautiful Mountainbehind my mother's hogan.I am thinking about something.

Now it is middle-time of day.

The sheep stand still.

The shadows sit under the trees.

Everything is resting,the sunand the sheepand the shadows.

Everything is resting,

the sun

and the sheep

and the shadows.

I, too, rest.

And I look at Beautiful Mountainbehind my mother's hogan.

And I look at Beautiful Mountain

behind my mother's hogan.

I am thinking about something.

Earth,they are sayingthat you are tired.They are sayingthat for too longyou have given lifeto the sheepand The People.I am only little.I cannot do big things,but I can do this for you.I can take my sheepto new pastures.I can take themthe long wayaround the arroyos,not through them,when we go to the waterhole.This waytheir little feet,their sharp pointed feet,will not make the cutsacross your facegrow deeper.This waythe worn pasturescan sleep a littleand grow new grass again.I can do thisto heal your cuts,to make younot so tired.Earth, my mother,do you understand?

Earth,they are sayingthat you are tired.

Earth,

they are saying

that you are tired.

They are sayingthat for too longyou have given lifeto the sheepand The People.

They are saying

that for too long

you have given life

to the sheep

and The People.

I am only little.

I cannot do big things,but I can do this for you.

I cannot do big things,

but I can do this for you.

I can take my sheepto new pastures.

I can take my sheep

to new pastures.

I can take themthe long wayaround the arroyos,not through them,when we go to the waterhole.

I can take them

the long way

around the arroyos,

not through them,

when we go to the waterhole.

This waytheir little feet,their sharp pointed feet,will not make the cutsacross your facegrow deeper.

This way

their little feet,

their sharp pointed feet,

will not make the cuts

across your face

grow deeper.

This waythe worn pasturescan sleep a littleand grow new grass again.

This way

the worn pastures

can sleep a little

and grow new grass again.

I can do thisto heal your cuts,to make younot so tired.

I can do this

to heal your cuts,

to make you

not so tired.

Earth, my mother,do you understand?

Earth, my mother,

do you understand?

Grandfather Goatstands on the hilltop,shaking his whiskers,chewing somethingand looking wise.Sometimeswhen I ask him thingshe looks at meas if he knew.Perhaps he does.

Grandfather Goatstands on the hilltop,shaking his whiskers,chewing somethingand looking wise.

Grandfather Goat

stands on the hilltop,

shaking his whiskers,

chewing something

and looking wise.

Sometimeswhen I ask him thingshe looks at meas if he knew.

Sometimes

when I ask him things

he looks at me

as if he knew.

Perhaps he does.

Baby goatsalways are playing,climbing upand jumping down.This small onealways standson the top of the storehouse.He knowsthere are things to eat inside,I think.

Baby goatsalways are playing,climbing upand jumping down.

Baby goats

always are playing,

climbing up

and jumping down.

This small onealways standson the top of the storehouse.

This small one

always stands

on the top of the storehouse.

He knowsthere are things to eat inside,I think.

He knows

there are things to eat inside,

I think.

Afternoon is long.The sun goes slowlyacross the sky.The sheep walk slowly,feeding.I see them against the skyin a long, slow line.I whisper to the windto blow the sunand the sheepa littleto make them hurry.But it blowsonly the cloudsand the sandand me.

Afternoon is long.

The sun goes slowlyacross the sky.

The sun goes slowly

across the sky.

The sheep walk slowly,feeding.

The sheep walk slowly,

feeding.

I see them against the skyin a long, slow line.

I see them against the sky

in a long, slow line.

I whisper to the windto blow the sunand the sheepa littleto make them hurry.

I whisper to the wind

to blow the sun

and the sheep

a little

to make them hurry.

But it blowsonly the cloudsand the sandand me.

But it blows

only the clouds

and the sand

and me.

Just nowI watched the sun going.It took a long timeto say goodbye.I think it knewthat the landand the thingsof the landwere sorryit had to go.It said goodbyein such a good way.Just for a little timeit made the skyand the rocksand the sandlike itselfto let them knowhow it feelsto be sun.Then it went awayand all thingswere stillbecause the sun had gone.

Just nowI watched the sun going.

Just now

I watched the sun going.

It took a long timeto say goodbye.

It took a long time

to say goodbye.

I think it knewthat the landand the thingsof the landwere sorryit had to go.

I think it knew

that the land

and the things

of the land

were sorry

it had to go.

It said goodbyein such a good way.

It said goodbye

in such a good way.

Just for a little timeit made the skyand the rocksand the sandlike itselfto let them knowhow it feelsto be sun.

Just for a little time

it made the sky

and the rocks

and the sand

like itself

to let them know

how it feels

to be sun.

Then it went awayand all thingswere stillbecause the sun had gone.

Then it went away

and all things

were still

because the sun had gone.

The sheep knowthat the day is over,but Grandfather Goatstays behindto push his whiskershigh up in a treefor one last bite.Old GreedyGrandfather Goat.

The sheep knowthat the day is over,but Grandfather Goatstays behindto push his whiskershigh up in a treefor one last bite.

The sheep know

that the day is over,

but Grandfather Goat

stays behind

to push his whiskers

high up in a tree

for one last bite.

Old GreedyGrandfather Goat.

Old Greedy

Grandfather Goat.

Beautiful Mountainlooks so blueand so coldand so lonelynow that the sunand the sheepand Iare going.If it were nearer to meand small,I could bring itinto my mother's hoganunder my blanket.Then I need not leaveBeautiful Mountainout there by itselfin the night.

Beautiful Mountainlooks so blueand so coldand so lonelynow that the sunand the sheepand Iare going.

Beautiful Mountain

looks so blue

and so cold

and so lonely

now that the sun

and the sheep

and I

are going.

If it were nearer to meand small,I could bring itinto my mother's hoganunder my blanket.

If it were nearer to me

and small,

I could bring it

into my mother's hogan

under my blanket.

Then I need not leaveBeautiful Mountainout there by itselfin the night.

Then I need not leave

Beautiful Mountain

out there by itself

in the night.

For a long timethere have been meetingsof many menfor many days.At the meetingsthere is talking,talking,talking.Some this way.Some that way.In the morningwhen my fatherleaves for meetinghe says to us,"When I come here againthen I will knowif it is bestto have many sheepor few sheep,to use the landor let it sleep."

For a long timethere have been meetingsof many menfor many days.

For a long time

there have been meetings

of many men

for many days.

At the meetingsthere is talking,talking,talking.

At the meetings

there is talking,

talking,

talking.

Some this way.

Some that way.

In the morningwhen my fatherleaves for meetinghe says to us,"When I come here againthen I will knowif it is bestto have many sheepor few sheep,to use the landor let it sleep."

In the morning

when my father

leaves for meeting

he says to us,

"When I come here again

then I will know

if it is best

to have many sheep

or few sheep,

to use the land

or let it sleep."

Butwhen my fathercomes home from meetinghe does not knowwhich talking-way to follow.Tonightwhen my fathercame home from meetinghe just sat, lookingand looking.My mother gave him coffeeand bread and mutton,but my father just sat,looking.Then my motherspoke to me.She said,"A meeting is like rain.When there is little talk,now and then,here and there,it is good.It makes thoughts growas little rains make corn grow.But big talk, too much,is like a floodtaking things of long standingbefore it."My mothersaid this to me,but I thinkshe wanted my fatherto hear it.

Butwhen my fathercomes home from meetinghe does not knowwhich talking-way to follow.

But

when my father

comes home from meeting

he does not know

which talking-way to follow.

Tonightwhen my fathercame home from meetinghe just sat, lookingand looking.

Tonight

when my father

came home from meeting

he just sat, looking

and looking.

My mother gave him coffeeand bread and mutton,but my father just sat,looking.

My mother gave him coffee

and bread and mutton,

but my father just sat,

looking.

Then my motherspoke to me.

Then my mother

spoke to me.

She said,"A meeting is like rain.

She said,

"A meeting is like rain.

When there is little talk,now and then,here and there,it is good.

When there is little talk,

now and then,

here and there,

it is good.

It makes thoughts growas little rains make corn grow.

It makes thoughts grow

as little rains make corn grow.

But big talk, too much,is like a floodtaking things of long standingbefore it."

But big talk, too much,

is like a flood

taking things of long standing

before it."

My mothersaid this to me,but I thinkshe wanted my fatherto hear it.

My mother

said this to me,

but I think

she wanted my father

to hear it.

After the sun has gone,my mother's sheepand I,we walk together, slowly,to my mother's hoganand the corral.Most all the daymy motherfrom her hogan doorhas watched meand the sheepto seethat no harm came to us.And nowmy mother comes to meet us.She comes to welcome usas if we had been gonea long way,a long time.Sometimesmy father's singingcomes to meet usacross the sandwash.It comes to meet usto sing us home.Sometimes,the smokefrom the supper firecomes to meet usacross the dark blueof the night sky.For me the hogan is waitingand the corralwaits for the sheep.

After the sun has gone,my mother's sheepand I,we walk together, slowly,to my mother's hoganand the corral.

After the sun has gone,

my mother's sheep

and I,

we walk together, slowly,

to my mother's hogan

and the corral.

Most all the daymy motherfrom her hogan doorhas watched meand the sheepto seethat no harm came to us.

Most all the day

my mother

from her hogan door

has watched me

and the sheep

to see

that no harm came to us.

And nowmy mother comes to meet us.

And now

my mother comes to meet us.

She comes to welcome usas if we had been gonea long way,a long time.

She comes to welcome us

as if we had been gone

a long way,

a long time.

Sometimesmy father's singingcomes to meet usacross the sandwash.

Sometimes

my father's singing

comes to meet us

across the sandwash.

It comes to meet usto sing us home.

It comes to meet us

to sing us home.

Sometimes,the smokefrom the supper firecomes to meet usacross the dark blueof the night sky.

Sometimes,

the smoke

from the supper fire

comes to meet us

across the dark blue

of the night sky.

For me the hogan is waitingand the corralwaits for the sheep.

For me the hogan is waiting

and the corral

waits for the sheep.

Night is outsidein his black blanket.I hear himtalking with the wind.I do not know him.He is outside.

Night is outsidein his black blanket.

Night is outside

in his black blanket.

I hear himtalking with the wind.

I hear him

talking with the wind.

I do not know him.

He is outside.

I am herein my mother's hoganwarm in my sheepskinclose to my mother.The things I knoware around melike a blanket,keeping me safefrom those thingswhich are strange.Keeping me safe.

I am herein my mother's hoganwarm in my sheepskinclose to my mother.

I am here

in my mother's hogan

warm in my sheepskin

close to my mother.

The things I knoware around melike a blanket,keeping me safefrom those thingswhich are strange.

The things I know

are around me

like a blanket,

keeping me safe

from those things

which are strange.

Keeping me safe.

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