She was not crying when I left her, simply kneeling quietly

    hands before her on the earth, hair, trailing in the dust.

    Go child; she said to me, pray at the Water before you return

    gather then a few things, mint, morel, moss, blackberry, and willow.

    Come again as Grandmother sun, begins her journey into the west

    burn the tobacco that I gave you, sprinkle the corn pollen.

    Follow the circle that I showed, here, where you see each stone

    do not hesitate if you see shadows, do not fear the things you hear.

    Yet I, trembled already, never had she acted so strangely

    as if she were in the greatest pain, though I saw no hurt.

    Keeping with her the soft rabbit skins, so softly tanned

    we had worked all winter, making them perfect.

    Cattail fluff as well, were asked of me, not easy to gather

    I did not mean to be distracted, but frog, and turtle were active.

    So early yet in the season of greening, it made me smile to see

    hopping here, and there, such tiny little frogs they were.

    My fourth winter had passed, hard it was, and hungry

    now, there were such treasures to be had, and I greedy.

    Father had not yet returned, this first hunt, a long one

    I knew well there would be meat, and for me new clothes.

    Though I am their only child, they did not seem to mind

    and my grandmothers loved me, a granddaughter they could train.

    Where were they, why, must I wait so long before returning

    what were they hiding, what magic were they making?

    "Always in a hurry", that was my name, my mother laughed to hear it

    do not worry little one, "she said"  someday it will change.

    Now, I must truly hurry, Grandmother suns glory, shines her setting

    once again I am late, but there is no scolding, their faces are happy.

    I stop, look from face to face, the shadows are softly glowing

    mother is beautiful smiling there so sweetly, at that tiny bundle.

    A brother you have, says mother laughing, today you are "slow one"

    what has kept you child, how did you get so dirtied?

    In my hands, were each thing she had asked for

    but my face felt frozen, now I wonder, did I, make that magic?

    Was it I, who brought this brother with my prayers

    if so, I was through with gathering, I did it wrong, I wanted a sister!

as told by my grandmother

granny © Sheila Williams