Nature / Rhythmic Stories December 3, 2020

Indian Paintbrush


The Navajo woman saw beauty all around

She would weave the beauty she saw growing on the ground

Her Poles staked out and measured to height

on the Upright looms with no moving parts to fight

Her eyes would slowly look 

to the subject she undertook

Her hands moved too and fro

A field of Indian paints row after row

 dancing in the gentle breeze

With such ease 

A fiery red they glow

she sat patiently weaving for hours upon hours

Glancing up and intently studying her flowers

The Indian Paint was her inspiration 

To give her vision for her woven creation

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