(Somewhere Under a Raincloud)

11th Rainbow Family Gathering of the Tribes
July 1-7, 1982, Boise Forest, Idaho


The Gathering is gathering:
the brothers are leavening the bread,
the sisters are harvesting the rice,
the lovers of Earth are climbing the hill
where Heaven descends
in its robes of rainclouds to cleanse us
and our ancient Mother turns to mud.

The firmament is opening,
the moon is scattering the clouds,
rising round and full of fire, a mirror
for the day beyond our dark— this shadow
of the turning Earth— and now
the shadow falls across the full moon,
Sun and Earth and Moon align
as if they gather with us, and the stars
are mirroring the fires of our camp.

The encampment is waking
to the naked beauty of the day,
the Sun bursts newborn
from a cleft in the Earth,
and the children are dancing, likewise naked,
likewise newborn on the Mother’s breast—
She wears the raindrops like a diadem
on every needle of her fine green mantle;
He wears them in a bow
of colors round his brow.

The mud has dried beneath our tires
and our highways lead everywhere
from this dirt road down: and descending,
every citizen of this nation on a hill
sees climbing from the valley
a seven-colored rainbow’s arch:
we pass beneath the arm
of Heaven’s benediction,
breathing out the breath of the mountain,
scattering the seed of silence and light.