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Stuck In The Smoke Hole Of Our Tipi

A seasonal favorite… got to be careful where you’re going, Saint Nick 😉

Songs of My Heart

Today’s Christmas song is “Stuck In The Smoke Hole Of Our Tipi,” an original song by Shoshonee Elder Oldhands (flamingwarbonnet on Youtube). I heard it for the first time yesterday, when a friend emailed the link for the Youtube video to me. It gave me a good chuckle. I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday, so perhaps that set me up for this somewhat morbid sense of humor. But this song got me to think how we take it for granted that everyone around the world knows about Santa Claus and the Christmas tradition associated with him. To someone who doesn’t know about Christmas or Santa Claus, he must look pretty silly in that red suit, bellowing “Ho, Ho, Ho” and lugging around a big sack of toys. This song explores the possibility of what could happen if Santa encounters an Indian tribe that doesn’t know him or the Christmas tradition.

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Postcard from the Azores

Another country heard from:

hydrangeas from a distant shore.

The island of my husband’s family

cheerfully inscribed with a message

from a mutual friend

tugs at my nostalgia for his long fingers

holding up the camera,

his drawl coaxing me to smile for him,

then turning to a flower, closing in;

both subject to his fascination

enclosed in pixels just as much as mind,

his warm regard upon my face

a swathe of summer sun

and the scent of long-faded blossoms

somehow brushes across me

whispering Azores.

(c) RCGA 2017

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Last Night

Moonlight shines through the curtains

a streak of white in the darkness of my room

a river of milky light spilling on the sheets

tickling the cat’s whiskers

pouring across my thigh

cool and pure

and the repetitive sound

of the night train passing

gadda chunk

gadda chunk

gadda chunk

gadda chunk

is punctuated with a periodic wail

a metal wolf howling

at the full moon

(c) RCGA 2017

 

Crow Code

The crow comes to the high tree across the way
and talks to me in code
two caws, three caws, seven, then two
I don’t know what he’s saying
but I respond
my ragged awks less resonant

and yet
he answers me
fluffing his black feathers
spreading his dark wings
upping the ante
with a longer call pattern

Today it was just one caw
one after another
and he only went to two
when I gave him two of my awkward calls

When I came inside he flew away
and I wonder what we have spoken of
what he believes of me
from our conversations
bird and woman
perched across the street from each other
in the spring sunshine

3-23-17 © RCGA

crowtree

Noel

 
Peace be with you.
Deep peace of the sky and ocean,
deep peace of the high trees and their roots
reaching for their strong holds in the earth.
Deep peace of the wind’s origin
where the voice of God whispers
the secrets of our being.
Peace to all:
brothers and sisters
two- and four-legged,
winged, finned, and furred;
to beings so small
only our maker sees them,
yet loves them as deeply
as all the other children.
Peace be with you
and in that peace find hope
for yourselves and for others
for all creation
spinning beneath the stars
in wonder and in joy.
(c) RCGA 2016earth_from_space

For Livi

On the days that I sat by you
watching your fingers fly
on the calculator keys
you told me stories

I marveled that a woman
so tiny
so beautiful
had survived things
my imagination recoiled from
when only a child

There was hunger
and frostbite
there were nights with no bed
there was fear
there was loss
there were nightmares when sleep came
and all your family gone

Yet, here you were
a butterfly
an angel
your wings still full
and spread to embrace
everyone
and all life’s joys

I learned more from you
than how to add numbers
on those mornings

I witnessed the embodiment
of grace
and felt humbled
in its brightness

(c) RCGA
For Livia Gal, survivor of the Holocaust in Budapest and Hungary.

pinkbutterfly

Poets, Prophets, & Healers

The poets, the prophets, the healers.
So many have left us, it’s time to arise;
to dance in the streets
and to pull back the curtains,
to follow the dove where she flies.
If our hearts are broken, then love is the mending,
the way out of darkness is light…
come out from the shadows, and bring all your candles,
we’ve got work to do on this night.
Fling wide your eyes, and your minds, and your lips,
be the change, be the peace, be the goals…
for everyone’s longing for poets and prophets
and healers to speak to their souls.
(c) 2016 RCGAbigstock-candle-in-a-hand-19600874
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