by Ethel Mortenson Davis
We need
to wash our faces
in the cedar smoke,
for the spring
is in drought.
We need to do
all that is right,
all that any god
would surely admire.
Look!
There is the green grosbeak.
He has returned
to nest even though
our world is dying.
I will lay water
out for him,
and he, in turn,
will help us forget
our hair is white.
fourwindowspress 