"There's nothing to match curling up with a good book

when there's a repair job to be done

around the house."

Joe Ryan



Ginny Odenbach

Thank you Lisa for the poem
« An Anasazi Woman Speaks »Ginny Odenbach
I was here, I came this way.

With the rabbit brush
you dig from your fields
I wove a carrying basket
and worked into it a dark
design of eagles'claws,
My signature-inked
with sneezeweed dyes.
With the feathers you pluck
from your turkey and burn
I wove a blanket,a cape to wear when
winds blow chilly.
With the yuka you ignore
I shod my feet and wash my hair
weaving sandals from the leaves
and making soapweed suds from the roots.
With the yarrow leaves the wind scatters
I made tea, hot and strong,
to warm and cure and calm.
With the clay beneath your feet
that gumbo which sticks to your boots,
I coiled pots, and mugs,and sacred feather holders.
With the soft inner barkof the juniper,
I diapered my baby,or crushed it between my hands
to make a nest for the spark
from my fire bow.
I ground red hematite
between two stones and mixed it
with my honey-colored urine
that slapped my painty palm
against the canyon wall, saying,
I was here.I came this way.

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