Archive of New Mexico Poetry – Brian Scarborough
Doves circle the sky.
Clouds leave shapes of fantasy.
Indians dance for their lives.
Doves are signs of life.
Clouds leave shapes of fantasy.
Sky is never ending.
Doves are signs of life.
Angels watch.
Sky is never ending.
Sun glistens like silk.
Angels watch.
Satin clouds sit and wait.
Sun glistens like silk.
Doves glide.
Satin clouds sit and wait.
As the breeze blows.
The doves fly in and
They circle the sky.
As clouds leave shapes of fantasy,
And angels watch.
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As the turquoise sun sets in the
Sky, the land
Is thundering with rain.
The Indians wear their masks
Of holy wood and dance
For the rain.
They are dancing their exotic dance and
Chanting to the heavens as the rain comes.
The children run and play
As the casinos shut down for the night
And the lights go out.
The children raised on a
Reservation
Relying on God
For life.
The jewelry is painted symbolically
And is sold on porches
By the wise ones of
The tribe.
The rain comes as the Indians are sleeping with their Paints by their sides.
The children talk in their sleep of a good Supper at last.
The adults dream of beauty once again.
The next night the rain comes again.
The children talk of a good supper at last.
The adults dream of beauty once again.
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About the Poet
Brian Scarborough is a published poet, and in the fall of 2000 will be entering 8th grade at Santa Fe Preparatory School.
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