My uncle is a small man. 
In Navajo, we call him, "shidá'í,"
          my mother's brother.
He doesn't know English,
          but his name in the white way is Tom Jim. 
          He lives about a mile or so 
          down the road from our house.
One morning he sat in the kitchen, 
drinking coffee.
           I just came over, he said, 
           The store is where I'm going to.
He tells me about how my mother seems to be gone 
every time he comes over.
           Maybe she sees me coming 
           then runs and jumps in her car 
           and speeds away! 
           he says smiling.
We both laugh - just to think of my mother 
jumping in her car and speeding.
           I pour him more coffee 
and he spoons in sugar and cream 
until it looks almost like a chocolate shake. 
Then he sees the coffee can.

          Oh, that's that coffee with the man in a dress, 
          like a church man. 
          Ah-h, that's the one that does it for me. 
          Very good coffee.
I sit down again and he tells me,
          Some coffee has no kick. 
          But this one is the one. 
          It does it good for me.
I pour us both a cup 
and while we wait for my mother, 
his eyes crinkle with the smile and he says,
            Yes, ah yes. This is the very one 
            (putting in more sugar and cream).
So I usually buy Hills Brothers Coffee. 
Once or sometimes twice a day, 
I drink a hot coffee and
             it sure does it for me.

11/01/2013 6:12am -- Again, a video of Luci reciting her poem. She's much younger in this one.


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    These will more often than not be Native Writers but there will also be non native writers included here because I am reading some. 


    November 2013