¤
The wind tossed his shiny black braids to the air,
His beaded jewels painted with flames,
As the Iroquois boy asked his parent with care,
“Father, how do we come by our names?”
¤
He answered his son as he smiled with mirth,
“Ah, for always our custom has been
To see what we see at the moment of birth
And to then name our young for the omen.”
¤
“Black Falcon,” The tall brown man went on to say,
“Was named for the falcon that landed
From high in the sky on the boy’s birthing day,
And so with that name he was branded.”
¤
“At the birth of your brother, Mad Stallion, we saw
A fierce bronco boisterously bucking,
It has been ever so our traditional law,
But why ask you this, Two Huskies Fucking?”
¤
Buttercup's House 