Three, The Dance.
Dancing he dreams, he dreams, the long wind
glances, moves forever as a music to the mind.
The gourds are flashes of the sun.
He takes the inward mincing steps describing
old processions and refrains.
Dancing his moccasins, his sash and bandolier
contain him in insignia.
His fan is powerful, concise according to his agile hand,
and catches on the sacramental air.