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| Birdfoot's Grandpa † | |
| The old man | |
| must have stopped our car | |
| two dozen times to climb out | |
| and gather into his hands | |
| the small toads blinded | |
| by our lights and leaping, | |
| live drops of rain. | |
| The rain was falling, | |
| a mist about his white hair | |
| and I kept saying | |
| you can't save them all, | |
| accept it, get back in | |
| we've got places to go. | |
| But, leathery hands full | |
| of wet brown life, | |
| knee deep in the summer | |
| roadside grass, | |
| he just smiled and said | |
| they have places to go, | |
| too. | |
| — Joseph Bruchac | |
| Entering Onodaga |
| † From Entering Onodaga [ © 1978 Cold Mountain Press ] | |
| Reprinted on page vi of | |
| Keepers of the Earth / Native American Stories and Environmental Activities for Children | |
| by Michael J. Caduto and Joseph Bruchac © 1989 by the authors, | |
| published by Fulcrum, Inc., Golden, Colorado | |
| Also reprinted in Native American Stories told by Joseph Bruchac | |
| © 1991 by Joseph Bruchac, | |
| published by Fulcrum Publishing Company, Golden Colorado | |
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