my grandmother’s cousin
arrived one summer
she did not speak
but sat cross-legged
alone on the bluff
above the lake
wrapped in an Indian blanket
not a serape but a blanket
with vibrant geometry
of indigo, yellows and reds
she was a totem
silent and still
her silver hair a spiral braid
the length of her spine
like a geodesy of form and place
as though her gravity field
could accept no other force
than her own
~~~~~
Jean Cassidy 2021
Photo: Indian Blanket Flower
