. . . The sun rose up over the city but I couldn’t see it amidst the rain.

Though I was not at home, bundling up the baby to carry her outside,

I carried this newborn girl within the cradleboard of my heart.

I held her up and presented her to the sun, so she would be recognized as a relative,

So that she won’t forget this connection, this promise, So that we all remember, the sacredness of life.

~ Joy Harjo, excerpt from Talking with the Sun

When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through: A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry Paperback – August 25, 2020 edited by Joy Harjo 

Too late I wake to walk before a 9:00 am appointment, and so I wait. The girls and the dogs go without me. But I take a quick walk around the property in a free half hour. It’s not enough, and I know that. But it is something. Because the sky is a flawless blue and it’s still summer. The brook is bone dry and I walk on the black earth of it just looking around, feeling curious about this place that’s covered in water 3/4 of the year. And, here is a shell, it’s empty, and it’s a fresh water one, and I wonder what lived here? I work at my desk until the mid-afternoon, and get done most of what I hoped I’d get done, and now, it is time to break away and enjoy the rest of this summer day. My daughter, the one who is expecting, breaks away from her work too. We decide we will walk to the beach at the pond and set off through the wood. Together, we walk happily relaxed. From the beach, which has only a few people, and the life-guards are gone, we swim out to the island and back in bliss. For me, it’s the best swim of the summer so far. The water is cool, the sun is hot, and I have energy and ease in my stroke. It’s a pure pleasure afternoon. And then we walk home, up the tree shaded street to the meadow and into the woods. Tonight, I tune into a poetry event from Santa Fe: Joy Harjo and Luci Tapahanson reading. poems from the collection I mentioned above. This morning I woke up feeling so happy about the writers I wrote with last night who came to my webinar. Because it matters: what we are tending, growing and harvesting. How much the world needs to hear the stories we can tell about what we have grown and all the pests and harms we have encountered and dealt with on this journey.