Wild haw women,
rust red tenacity
spring blooming
spiny flower,
your berries bitter
not to be eaten,
a subtle statement
in bright apple red,
white fragrance
hung in the air,
your golden center
bright against the sky,
a blue bird
upon your branch,
a clear song.
We sing of Sara
and Marianne,
of hatchet Carrie
and calamity Jane,
we sing of Sacajawea,
our bird chant ritual,
each third Wednesday
in autumn,
we sing
we sing
we sing.