Homecoming Into Mist
they await us
they await us at home,
they await us when
we have gone away by water.
they await our canoes
they read of us
they read of us in books
they read of us when
the dances are no longer danced
and no songs bathe newborns
they fall in love
they fall in love with us
they pant like summer when
they see our buff, painted bodies
they finger our coming
they look for us
they stand like trees on hills
and look for us when
there's nothing but the river mist
crestfallen are they
they will fight us
they will fight us at home
and will fight us when
we have come with peaceful gifts
they await with knives
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