I hear a finale of fireworks
crackle across the crown
of my blue and white umbrella.
Nanabozhu is on his way to Detroit Lakes, Minnesota, where the people are unique and peculiar.
“Can you pull up next to that guy driving that semi?” He rolls down the back passenger side window to the Chrysler Town and Country.
“I don’t think it’s going to accomplish anything.” Says the blond in the front seat.
“Well, I have to try,” he replies.
By now they are alongside the guy driving the semi at 75 miles an hour. Nanabozhu sticks his head out the window (which doesn’t quite open up all the way so he’s kinda squished through it.) The trucker looks down at them and sees an older Anishinabe fellow squinting with effort as Nanabozhu tries to make a rolling motion with the one hand he can get out of it.
The truck driver rolls down his window with a curious look on his face. With the wind whipping by, he thinks he hears Nanabozhu yell something like “Your barn door’s open!” (Which is a euphemism for “the zipper on your pants is undone”.) Nanabozhu can see him mouth “What?!” with an incredulous look on his face.
“Your back door is open!” Nanabozhu yells again. The trucker smiles and waves with that easygoing look of someone who has heard you say something but is too polite to tell you that they didn’t quite understand what you said.
Their Town and Country pulls ahead, leaving the truck behind with Ben their driver glancing back in the SUV’s rear view mirror to watch the trucker checking his side view mirrors looking like someone who, with a little thought, has finally figured out what you were trying to say, and the trucker finally begins to pull off the road.
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Wings that can’t be seen
iridescent blues and greens
Is it Anishinabe haiku
because an Anishinabe wrote it,
or is it Anishinabe haiku
because of the subject?
Posted in American Indian, Anishinabe, Children's Poetry, Chippewa, Culture, Haiku, Indian Values, Native American, Nature, Poem, Poems, Poetry | Tagged American Indian, Anishinabe, Chippewa, Haiku, Native American, Nature, Ojibwe, Poems, Poetry, Reflection, Thoughts | 4 Comments »
Someone shoot that rooster!
If we do not linger abed upon awakening,
and dwell upon our dreams,
we run the risk of not hearing/
not heeding their synopsis and interpretation
by their director and producer.
Posted in American Indian, Anishinabe, Chippewa, Culture, Dreams, Indian Values, Native American, Opinion, Spirituality | Tagged American Indian, Anishinabe, Chippewa, Commentary, Culture, Dreams, Health, Native American, Nature, Ojibwe, Opinion, Reflection, Spirituality, Thoughts | 10 Comments »
“I think maybe the owls are out tonight.”
“I don’t know. It could be morning doves.”
Whatever it or they are, the sounds are muffled behind a closed window and the susurrus of the air conditioning.
The spirit being willing more than the flesh being lazy, I roll out of bed–a distance of three feet, open the window and reveal the world; its chorus of frogs and the song of the Barred Owl.
He has a distinctive call.
So I reply.
It is a moment before he responds. From hearing the sound of my Owl voice he is probably thinking that as an Owl, I am retarded, (Sorry folks, the politically correct words “developmentally disabled” just don’t convey the proper nuance in Owldom.) but deigns to answer me anyway.
“It’s good enough that he is answering you back,” Wifie says.
The three of us converse long enough–he and I in Owlish, and she to me in English–to drink in the strangeness of it all.
Until I stop.
When he doesn’t hear from me any more, he gives one last Awwww! And goes away to look for other friends elsewhere.
Sometimes the difference between living an uneventful life and enjoying a singular experience can be as little as three feet.
Posted in American Indian, Anishinabe, Chippewa, Indian Values, Native American, Nature, Opinion, Stories | Tagged American Indian, Anishinabe, Chippewa, Commentary, Culture, Native American, Nature, Ojibwe, Opinion, Stories, Thoughts | 4 Comments »