Day sixty-eight

Wind Makers

For Chris Hester

We're ten years old and have no

money to see movies or to go

to the local pool. I grab a piece of

paper from our dot matrix printer

and fold a paper plane that loops

and loops. When I throw the plane

we become pilots. I'm the pilot he's

the gunner. And we shoot down giant

birds and bugs. The wind blows

too hard and we crash land onto

the roof of my house. The game's

over. But Chris, has an idea, a one

that comes from the brilliance of

the sun. He went to the reservation

last week and saw the Cherokee dance.

They danced for rain spinning and stomping

against drum beats. "Lets do a wind dance"

Chris grins. We don't know what we're

doing. If we were older we would look

like prejudice punks, mocking the power

of native traditions, but we are young.

We dance spinning in confusion and the wind

picks up. We dance fierce against the wind

and the paper plane glides off the roof.

We've pleased the Wind spirit. We are

wind makers.

15:54