I looked up and
pointed to the pinion
jay, "it is up to the pinion
jay where to fly next, but there
is no reason not to observe its flight,"

Animas River Woman
of Durango waved off
Jim Bridger.  It is Thanksgiving
Day, Bridger left us a turkey he
shot at Medano Creek, the journey
from traders row in the San Juan left
us good thoughts of Bridger, his whiskey
fired our lust, "bring the whiskey, Animas
River Woman of  Durango," I motioned her
to my tipi not about to find myself empty handed
after months of isolation and hardship, I demonstrated
my primitive fire starting technique, our rendezvous hot,
the flint scintillated our naked flesh, we emerged
unscathed from rut season, the elk antlers didn't
penetrate,

I heard the monks, the
pinion jay flew toward the
abbey, Animas River Woman
of Durango and I, Sweetwater, 
a pagan were called to communion
with the monks, we offered the turkey
feathers to the monks for writing quills to
score chants in their scriptorium, the pinion
jay escorted us, introitum, the entrance chant,
the gradual, the psalm, kyrie, gloria, sanctus, agnus,
and Tantum ergo, we spent Thanksgiving Day at the
Monastery listening to the monks' Gregorian chants
and the feast of the day, Jim Bridger's turkey...

"it is up to the
pinion jay where to
fly next, but there is no
reason not to observe its flight,"


Copyright 2006 Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist

Animas River Woman of Durango
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?id=171513

Norwegian Wood: Woman of Medano Creek
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewpoetry.asp?id=170585