on Ethel’s birthday
Bring to me water
Taken from the well of the moon.
Bring to me bread
Baked into brown, round loaves.
This is my water and bread:
My woman with hands as white as the moon
And eyes as dark as the brown loaves
Bringing me the food and drink of life.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
photography by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
There is a place
on the high desert
where the sky
kneels down
and talks (with the people),
and where the blue mountains
pull them up to its heart—
where each one
has a place,
and no one
is left behind,
a place of little water,
where each cup
is drunk with gratitude—
and where children
on the school bus
stand and applaud
when the ditches
are running with water,
or when the mountain is white
in the morning
from last night’s
surprise spring snow.
Note: The Zuni people are a Pueblo Nation living in western New Mexico. This poem came from a story told by John Carter North at the Inscription Rock Trading Post poetry group meetings on Sunday morning.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
a photograph by Will Bingen
Will Bingen, our grandson, is starting to show the talent that is so strong in our family.
fourwindowspress 