The Mimbres

Once upon a place and time
In a cactus covered vale
We discover the sublime
Hidden backdrop of a tale

Here a people made their lives
By the Mimbres silver streak
Flowing peacefully and wild
From the distant mountain peaks

Women stood along its shore
And wore strings of turquoise beads
As the voice of warm winds blowed
Through the valley’s sweltry heat

They brought fish in earthen vessels
To their hearths beyond the strands
Which by desert rock lay nestled
In adobe homes of sand

On a porch there stood a bowl
And an old man with his brush
Pouring out in paint, his soul
On the bowl in pictures lush

Amadillos, butterflies
He applied with strokes assured
To evoke, personify
Nature’s present day grandeur

Thus he mused in meditation
Drawing life upon the clay
Saw the fruit of his creation
In the waning light of day

Women came to cook the maize
Hunters carried bison meat
To a fire full ablaze
In the early evening heat

Artful bowls with decoration
They brought forth and filled with foods
Wherein lay a dedication
To their god with gratitude

Thus they lived for generations
On the Mimbre’s quiet shore
Painting bowls with decorations
That contained their living lore

But the hands of time and space
Brushed across the quiet vale
To erase the people’s trace
And preserve their earthen tale

Then one day in modern times
There was found beneath a dune
Round clay bowls with pictures fine
Which lay hidden in a tomb

Killed in ritual and glory
Every bowl contained a hole
Through the vessel told its story
And in paint remained its soul