Down here in the coolies.
Right down by the slough.

I sit.

In the mud and ***** things.
Exasperated in my exhaustion.
Lying among dog tails and sweet grass.
Spear grass and hand picked sage.

And, let this smoke carry my sacrifice.
To the spirts.
And may they dim the sun.
So it doesn't beat down on me so.

As the sun turns orange.
Pink.
And red.
The sunset.

Announces the coming.
Of the cool night air.

And, I see Hugin and Munin.
Or, is it just raven.
In pairs.

And I know Odin.

Is watching.
But I always mix these mythologies up.
Even though they're so common.