He sat in the shade, back against the adobe and log wall,
watching the kids chase after whirlwinds.
Once in awhile they would catch one,
then try and stay in the middle as long as they could.
Had his hat brim drawn down across his eyes,
so the bright desert sunlight didn't make him blink.
The old rez dog laid at his feet, oblivious to the world,
chasing a squirrel by the looks of his legs twitching.
He dreamed of his youth, so many years ago,
when he had strength and good looks for the girls to see,
He would dance at the pow wows, bustle a'flyin,
stamping his feet to the beat of the drum.
At the top of his voice he would give his war cry,
though no enemies usually came to a dance.
That was alright though, he really didn't mind,
but he was ready for war if it came to that.
All of his friends were gone now,
taken by the spirits, as we all must be.
The life that remained in his fragile old body,
has seen better days, better times and better health.
Now it's a struggle to get out of bed some days,
harder still to come outside and sit in the fresh air.
He didn't fear what was happening to him,
it was just another part of this life.
Like this old hogan, that he built by himself,
how long now,50,60 years ago.
It served him well, raised four kids here,
now he watches his childrens children play in the red dust.
He wonders if they will sit here one day,
to dwell on their past as he does now.
But that's not important, the culture is,
then he sets up a little straighter and calls to the kids.
Come and gather at my feet, and I will tell you a story,
of warriors and raids I went on at your age.
Of pow wows and dances, of giving thanks to Spirit,
listen well so you can tell your own story someday.

Chuck West

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/timeless-memories/