St. Paul Powwow

Steve Crow

You can feel
faint breezes
as the dancers
go by, Eagle
feather bustles
stirring motion
into the air like
the feathers were
whispering little
winds into existence,
lifting themselves
above the shapes
of Earth, breathing
the dance into being
men like Eagles
following the voice
in the pulse of the drum,
barely making ripples,
never making turbulence
because, they say,
Eagles and Hawks
never disturb the air
they fly but always leave
their pathways
touched with calmness,
blessed by the spirit
of flight, caressed
by each wingbeat
brought into being
an Eagle, Hawk
or warrior dressed
in leather and feathers,
colored in beadwork
and dancing a clean clear heart.

Copyright 1995 Kaleidoscope. Write Place. Volume 6.
Contributors retain all rights to their work.