Spirits of the Wildflowers

by Parris Match

  Tah pulled away from her guardians clutch to join her familiar Dacoh; Malee and Oocee gently tugged her back,

  “Nahata [Women are forbidden to sit within the circle of men]”, Oocee said.

  Tah, not comprehending, squirmed and struggled in protest, reaching out; dependent upon Dacoh’s claiming stake.

  “Nahata”, “Nahata”, Malee soothingly repeated, holding tightly to Tah’s arm, pulling her back, patting and petting her hand in a calming gesture.

  Tah watched her man, her eyes never left him; short inquisitive side glances did not confuse her focus, Malee’s and Oocee’s cooing strokes and maternal pampering did not break her concentration; every motion, every tic and twitch, Dacoh made, she would see, he would not stir or veer by chance with the wind, without her knowing. Dacoh’s intermittent grinning, kindly quick looks, assured Tah, that he knew she was there, and he would not forget.

  The men’s traditional assemblage, snuffling feeding boars, grunting, taunts and mocking jabs, exclusion in their privileged circle; jostling, snorting and guffaws ended, Dacoh got up, stepped a few paces towards Tah and motioned her to come; eager and delighted, she pulled away from her two guardians liberated grasp and followed her master as he turned and left the village encampment. A short distance away from the gathering, cagily verified with a sidled glance, free from the eyes of his ragging brothers and snooping sisters, Dacoh swung his arm back and welcomed the hand of his favored pet.

  Still before the rising vermillion and purple cliffs and the bright phallic spires of the manifest cemented hoodoo, mornings brisk vigorous air, sharp to the nostrils, soundless and cold; ardent soaring young nestlers impassioned invitation, glee and laughter in a bonded sprint, pure shameless joy in their anticipation of lust.

  Glistening skin, glandulous tangy fragrance, and taut dampened bodies in a clenched embrace; deeply, softly snuggled, in the furry pelts, safely cloaked within the nest of the dimly sky-lit chamber. Wings to wings, talon fingers willingly lashed, mutually held clasped and captured. Dacoh’s barbed unyielding pinning lance, bored with no restraint, crammed this dove’s downy fluttering undulous pouch; cadenced humming moans and intertwined wresting writhe of fervent pleasure. Dacoh’s potent ramming thrust plunging; plumbing, delving its moist luscious mark. Ripe puffy sac’s enfolding-detention-and release / enfolding-detention-and release / enfolding-detention-and release; hugging, squeezing, gulping, clinching the hearts last throb, then to keep; wanton pleasure and pain, giddy surging undreamed sweet ecstasy and surrender, life-seed’s aimed planted secretion. Blissfully depleted and worn-rude from natures divine blessing, pods inserted budding destiny in the making. Resting her heated cheek on man’s smoldering rhythmic panting chest, yet still the aromatic throaty fragrance of passion’s musky dewfall; Tah, appreciatively touched, caressed his waning brand, then drew her hand to his heaving side, stroking, patting him tenderly; laying bare, with sure intent, her filled approval of his influence and her acknowledgment of his solitary manhood, by sighing and adoringly declaring, in diminishing breaths;

  “Dacoh…”, “Dacoh… …”, “Dacoh… …”, “Dacoh… … ”.

  Ego’s stroked esteem, prodded response; “Aie, Dacoh”, he proudly pronounced.

  Palming his hand over hers, they, thumping his side, he reiterated; “Dacoh, Dacoh”, then cupping his hand around her breast and fondly kneading, he asked, “Ulucha?”

  Not clearly knowing his word, however understanding his touch and meaning,

  She answered softly, “Tah”.

  “Tah”, he gently repeated; as she reacted to his moderate calling voice, moving her kindled skin in closer to his, a blushing recurrent tide; pressing into him, welding to him, blending into him; radiant and smitten.

  “Tah”, he whispered to her ear, as he tenderly massaged, teased and tweaked her comely bulbous protuberant coronet.

  “Tah”, he quietly spoke as he raised and bowed his head; lightly kissed, and petted, and licked, gently pinched and innocently suckled at the peak of her arousal.

  “ Dacoh”, Tah dreamily uttered; then pleasingly whimpered as she felt the gliding molten blaze of his reheated desire, swelling-up to be engorged again; blooded-red enticing serpentine lust, slithering athwart / against, menacing her quivering skin, seeking a warming nook, within her inner thigh.

  The clamoring rowdy onset of the last inspectors, web-footed waterfowl in flight, did alight on the disturbed and ruffled, yet approachable pond; alluring and bidding, flickering mirror signals ricochet their brazen flashes, outward open invitations to those seasonal migratory kind, passing high above. Felled and muddled, dried crackling yellowish reeds, revealing the waters perceptibly fenced outer boundary. Bossy territorial skittering and skimmering, gossips chitter-chatter and quack; some fat guests may linger and remain but most would not, thinner cold days and longer colder nights, some static moments of silent crisp clean air.

  Resplendent withdrawing gold-flaxen clothed Spirit, eternal custodian of the earned harvest and the absolute of truth, measured their time-honored course by the break of dawn; pointed sunbeams keen migration was predictable, diminishing each brief day to rest; golden shafts of light so apparent, marked their exact position in this time; by—pass the lucid notched sandstone gaps, all along and amid the higher rampart, edge of the grand escarpment.

  Dacoh and Tah so flourished side by side, vibrant distinct grains of crystalline sand, separate primary colors blending on nature’s pallet, on the grounds of the cozy wickerups warm nesting sanctuary. Each early morning saw them at the embraced fields of the garden village, joining the colorful congenial family of The Forgotten Ones.

  “Aadai, Tah—ee”! Dacoh declared as he handed Tah over to Malee and Oocee, introducing them to his bonded woman.

  “Aie”, they both answered; recognizing that the unproven vessel, the beginning of a flower bud, had just become a full sister in the family.

  “Tahee”, the two women clucked, as they showed Tah through her morning task; the other women of the cooking hut taking casual notice.

  From this everyday occasion on, Tah would be spoken of or addressed as Tahee; special sister of the tribe of the Forgotten Ones, a mother of the new harvest, first woman of Dacoh. Regarding her, watching over her, gazing upon her uniqueness, Dacoh would still speak of “Tah”; recognizing her significant individuality, in their time alone, or in their time of affection.

  Dacoh, in his anxious pride, would lay bare before Tah the rising well-spring of his charming heart, the precious gift of his beautiful valleys colorful palette, his informal essence at her disposition. They would tranquilly ramble and explore and touch the entire valley of the Forgotten Ones, Dacoh eagerly seeking her clear approval. Between the immense sheer securing boundary of the pinkish-vermilion sandstone curtain; and the imposing colossal backdrop of grey crested, towering granite cliffs; before a changing scene of rust and mauve and purplish, creased and craggy spires; the grandiose stunning stage was set.

  To strut proudly, pleased with his woman, through this glorious existent revelation, on the earlier discoverers well-worn pathways; then to slowly spider crawl across the collapsed and crumbled, unavoidable and occasional, lower segment of a fallen restless rockslide, below the extensive lofty eroded protective wall of the sandstone escarpment. Tramping beside the impenetrable towering barrier of the benevolent weeping mountains, which summit with the brilliant cloudless sapphire sky; that compose the limited promise, high above. Dacoh, with his little Tah, steering clear of all familial encounters, in-circled the hushed sun-exposed, near naked, napping box canyon; crisscrossing from day to day, brittle brown crunchy seasonable fields and meadows; again to be green, with white and yellow daisies, and some scattered roseate blooms.

  Around the reedy ponds dormant still water, to meet the over-flowing sodden tall-grassy channel, burbling low through the dusky-jade-ribboned vale, but seeping at length, at the very idle last, returns into the earth-spirit and disappears. Catch the sight of lone sited, haltingly
fingered cacti on the hilltop; light silhouetted in later eventide by the four phases of the moon, a staunch standing night-time army of untiring guards. Disrobed groves of slender and grey aspen, on a sand-n-saffron and rocky quilt; stately bunched and scattered pines, stunted spiny flairs of acrid resinous greasewood, gangly warped scrub oak; all profound sentries beside the graveled and rutted, hardly seen, leaching gullied dry streams. Ancient crippled notwithstanding lone stance of the distorted everlasting bristlecone pine, and the arranged set boulders, or formations of slight pretense and portrayal; each and every image and moving shadow so revered, those mystical sculptures and wind messages, of or from the telling sacred Spirits.

  Given that Dacoh felt the embracing liberal valley floor still evoked an illusion of a gilded snare; Dacoh affectionately pulled and delivered Tah to the top of the monumental stack of massive boulders at the north end of the valley; to let her see, and conclusively illustrate, the magnificence of their generous abode. In silent concert, shoulders inclined to one another, seated on a protruding flat rock terrace; legs dangling over the hovering balcony of the panoramic ridge. Accompanied only by the many trees of stunted pinion pine, spread along the serrated mountain slopes behind; acute whiffs of tangy alpine air circulate, descending the tall forested, thru the few and seldom tormented sharp ravines. Searching and pointing-out, looking down into their deep inviting canyon basin home, as well to the farthest distant wistful desert vista; who‘s heart could not leap, but find it‘s restraining grasp. Lastly…, standing before freedom’s passage, the valleys single open gate, discreetly not venturing within; unnoticed sidled glance at his burgled goods, fawns hand held in a gentle clasp, a slight twinge of doubts still remained.

  The wickedest constant enemy of the human spirit was fear, eclipsed only by the sinister dark cloak of nagging doubt.

  Malee and Oocee were the first to see, a hopeful blush of sweat, a dreamy faraway gaze in her eyes; the planted seed of the people had begun to sprout, Tahee’s germinated enveloping pouch was with child. Grinning between themselves, they could not wait to tell.

  Preparing and collecting their meals in the cooking hut, Oocee blurting the glow of good tidings, informed the other women of their recognizable pregnant conclusion; Malee happily nodding in smiling agreement; Tahee, not knowing what the animated cheery attention and busy gabbling was all about. Following Tahee on her traditional respectful delivery, Malee stood behind, as Tah dutifully presented Dacoh’s food to him;

  “The sneaky clever coyote yaps of his cub”, Malee pronounced.

  Dacoh looked at his mother, puzzled at what she was saying.

  “The all-seeing hawk proclaims in the air over his fledgling”,

  Malee declared, pointing to the sky.

  Dacoh did not know what to think of his mother’s chattering.

  “My Son boasts of his…” as Malee put her hand on Tahee’s stomach, patting her.

  Dacoh hearing her meaning bowed his head in embarrassment and clumsy pride, everyone within earshot uproariously laughing.

  Ahcoo’ah, from his self-imposed separation, was pleased to hear the sounds of laughter coming from his people; it had been a long time for them not to show their glad appetite for the day.

  With the revealing news, Dacoh arose after eating, to have an audience with Ahcoo’ah, he must make sure of his path in the following days; Tahee quickly got up, thinking they were going to leave, but Dacoh motioned her to stay. Walking behind the large meeting lodge, Dacoh sat before Ahcoo’ah;

  “Ahcoo’AH, my wise father; the fawn is occupied with child, as you have asked of me; With the Spirit’s kind-heartedness, the valley will bloom again”.

  “Aie”, Ahcoo’ah assuredly replied; “You are a good son, you have fulfilled what I asked of you; Dacoh’ah”.

  “Soon, you and your captivating blossom will move back with your people”, Ahcoo’ah informed Dacoh, “I will see that your brothers and sisters prepare your mothers cave for you; and your woman”.

  “Does your wildcat hiss, gnash her fangs, or show her claws”, Ahcoo’ah inquired bluntly.

  “Nah”, Dacoh candidly answered, “She is warm and accepting”, turning his back on the first few days he and Tah had spent together.

  “You are favored by the Spirits”, Ahcoo’ah replied. “Bitter milk feeds an embittered son”, “The harvest will be sweet, strong and enduring”, “Go now”, “She waits for you”, “Life is good…!”

  Dacoh returned to Tahee, and they both, later hand in hand, strolled back to the little oval dwelling place in the glade.

  For three lengthy days, the brothers and sisters of the village scraped and chiseled at the scored charred walls, enlarging the evicted Malee’s vacated cave, made ready for Dacoh and his swelling blessed squaw. Extending the cave deeper into the stone mountain, they constructed an adobe half-wall, mid-cave, to offer the young coupling, a modicum of seclusion from passing harmless eyes. Finishing with a new fire-pit at the entrance to the cave, the special chamber was ready for its new recent master.

  “Caw…, Caw…, Caw…” came the wakening call from outside of the thin-thatched wickerup, a separated temporary niche within a nook.

  Dacoh went to meet his brothers.

  “It is time for you to join your family”; Eeboh called out to Dacoh, as he exited through the wickerups mat door-flap.

  “Aie…, I have been waiting for this day”; Dacoh replied.

  “TAHEE”, Dacoh summoned, “Tahee, Come”, as he stuck his head and arm through the opening; and beckoned to Tah with a wave and sign, that she must leave.

  After a short time, Tah emerged from the thatched hut, smoothing her slipped-on garment and extracting her intertwined braid from within; seeing the familiar brothers restless and uneasy nearby, confused, wondering what were the brash visitors here for, what did this changed day have in store.

  “Ahcoo’ah has said we must tear down the nesting lodge”, Eeboh apologetically informed Dacoh; “Where your heart can never return”; Oocaie and Hoocoh nodding in the background.

  “Aie…, I am regretful that I must shed my calm soft cocoon; and this morning of fall has arrived”, Dacoh offhandedly confessed, with a shrug.

  Dacoh took Tahee by the hand, escorted her to the outer limits of the wickerups restricted estate, set apart in this idyllic aspen grove, and pointed and gestured for her to stay.

  Detaching the isolating flap from the woven nursery’s portal, Dacoh and the brothers removed all from its interior; clay pots, gifted baskets, shaken pelts and mats were placed at Tahee’s feet. Pushing, kicking, and falling, against the thick twisted thatching, the brothers crushed the incubation lodge nearer to the ground.

  Tah was shocked and saddened by what she saw, the demolition of her comfort and safe haven; new vulnerability chilled her heart.

  Taking the smoldering embers, expressly transported from the village circle of courage, Dacoh, in his traditional entitlement, did light the fire that would consume the initiations palette; Dacoh with Tahee must join the inflorescent and colorful people of the meadow and the countryside. Puffed hot to ardent flames roared into the assenting sky, the highly inflammable pocketed thatch crackling and spitting; searing the, outstretched and denuded, trembling singed fingers of the suspended council of trees, failing in its calming efforts to appease. Short-lived rude barbarians dance madly, and stomp with savage glee in wild abandon, soon the spirited lunatic’s brief blaze diminished; dumb mesmerized gawping took its place.

  No one noticed; Tah—ee wept.

  The cleansing fire burned with waning interest, a single direction remained its fiery purpose, to return was not an option, the brothers had assuredly executed their deed; it came the time to move on to Dacoh’s new realm.

  Puffily packing a self-eclipsed bundle ever so lightly, custom being his guide, Dacoh deposited the considered burden on Tahee’s willowy shoulders, very careful to take much more than his share; with the remainder divided amongst his brothers, the bent laden troop departed for t
he village fields. Eeboh in the lead, then Oocaie, Dacoh and Tahee; hurriedly pursued by the attendant Hoocoh, the un-sympathized lame partner, hobbled with his equal load, and dragging his, withered and shredded, clubbed-foot appendage along the rocky path behind.

  The recurrent bonding, morning of hope, was almost like any other; a shifting stream of coiled smoke slowly drifted above the cooking hut, and lazily snaked along the cold wrinkled cheek of the divine Spirits atop the mountain, holding ever so close to the severe stone facade; then dispersed within the upright grove of the slender ashen woods, held and lost within the stripped and spotted stalks. Shivering chills of the overshadowing frosty cliffs, dense and dispassionate, poised flat grey mantle, of last mist hovering.

  Daybreaks pale peevish wandering apparitions, milled about the commune’s stone circle. The glum grumbling murmurs of the eager impatient grumpy appetites; orderly busy activity surrounds the big hot griddle rock, confined within the only source of warmth, bustling devoted hands in the cooking hut, endeavoring to satisfy the peoples hungry necessity.

  By the time Eeboh and the following troupe had reached the village, the people had been aptly fed, the tones of cheerfulness had returned; Eeboh indicated their place of deposit, all the possessions of Dacoh’s close union, a neat pile of the transported goods within the common area. Dacoh and Tahee were nudged ahead, the guests of honor had arrived; facing their exuberant assembled hosts, acclamations and sustainable chants, welcome supportive repeated songs to the arriving pair. Tahee’s sharp-eyed distraction from this vociferous metrical salute, a shameless chittering nipping swarm, filching all that she was accustomed to; pots and baskets, each and every pelt and mat, taken. The thieving rabble rapidly scattering, skittering packrats dodging, scurrying mice, disappearing deeper into the village nooks and crannies. Pulling, tugging, and then jerking on Dacoh’s shirt sleeve; and frantically pointing; he turned, smiled, but took no issue.