Fiesta
The sun dances to the drums With Cottonwood boughs On head and ankles.
The moon steps softly In a turquoise tablita.
The stars run to pick up The eagle feathers Dropped by the dancers.
Alice Corbin Henderson
The sun dances to the drums With Cottonwood boughs On head and ankles.
The moon steps softly In a turquoise tablita.
The stars run to pick up The eagle feathers Dropped by the dancers.
A short, vivid glimpse of a traditional ceremony, the poem turns a human fiesta into a playful conversation between earth and sky. The speaker watches dancers move to drums, and the sun itself joins in, wearing the same cottonwood boughs on its head and ankles.
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