a tender smiled played on the woman's lips
as she watched her young child
so eager with anticipation
he practically danced
bowl in hand
awaiting the flow
of the coarse golden powder

the scene faded
behind a film of mist
as my own little guy
leaned too close
to the glass and
breathed heavily

what's she doing, momma?
grinding corn, baby
why?
to make meal
like dinner?
no, sweetheart, it's like flour.....

and we spent a lovely afternoon
wandering the museum in
Mesa Verda
looking at history
and comparing it
our lives today

08/31/2007

Author's Note: topic by Aaron...gotcha!

Posted on 09/01/2007
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