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Little One

I will tell you of forgetting
of the peach tree
beside the sweat lodge.

The warm Arizona nights.
The blood red moon at dusk.
The blood red sun at noon.

The mountains and chaparral
wedded to the sky.

In the wind the answers
to all the prayers
rise in cedar smoke.
Its fragrance fills the reservation.

This reminds me of the Navajo storyteller whose job it was (is) to instruct the youth.

There is an ancient voice and simplicity.

The peach tree threw me a bit. Usually associated with GA. Unless it has some significance, might change that. Minor.

On overall good piece. Authentic

I agree. The simplicity is what is most enjoyable for me. The narrator's voice draws me in.

Nicely done, straight forward, descriptive, spiritual.

I went to college with a reservation Navajo, great guy. Years ago I wrote some reservation poems that ended up in Pilgimage Magazine.

I've lived with the Diné and Hopi and the Arapaho. I have several Indian names given to me, mostly humorous. Yes, simplicity. As for peaches I'll keep it. Peaches grow in Arizona, and they were tasty. Actually, California and South Carolina grow more peaches than Georgia, but Georgia is the peach state. But I don't think everyone will think of Georgia because there's a peach tree in the poem. Also, people don't thin of Indians when they think of Georgia, though there were Indians all over Turtle Island at one time and I don't know for sure but there may be a tribe left in Georgia. Thanks all. Just a little filler poem.