Brooder House Tree stood stalwart against the thrashing wind and pelting hail stones. Hidden amongst the tightly woven branches and leaves of safe refuge, I listened, fascinated and frightened by the mystery of thunder and lightening and intermediate bursts of hail that left shredded leaf bodies swirling in the air and coming to a final rest in the corn fields below. Branches swept clean the roof of Brooder House, soft leaf underbellies sanded by shingles. Hail turned to water droplets and reached me as misty moisture. My safe place violated, became cold and shaking wracked my body, barefoot and short clad. DAVID wafted tremulously on the wind and I scurried down Brooder House Tree, dropped onto the roof, and hung from the roof edge to drop to the ground. Hot cocoa was waiting in the kitchen.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Native American Resources
American Indians in Children's Literature provides a Native perspective on literature and its impact on native populations.
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