On the side street behind the tourist shops
magpies gather in the park,
black and white syllables broken off
from the mind of the mountain.
Turquoise spirit and coral heart,
Jocelyn paints pueblo dreams,
scratches out symbols of white
Ancient frogs circle the edges
in this dance of the Red Willow Clan.
White field, yellow trees, blue sky,
everything becomes one thing,
settles down inside the hand
holding the brush above the canvas.
In the distance, the color of trees, impossible red,
moves closer to my body,
begins to build willow nests in my chest.
Branches put out leaves, slide into this place