Sunset at Cliff House

A red sand ring, a Hopi sun Beats at the cliffs, a red crow flies Out of the red stones; whirled and spun,

Out of the red ring, red things rise. Sandrock crimson windows cry

For red things up and red things free, A dance, a dog, and a ki yi yim.

And then that mocking mystery. Empty doors and empty town!

I fear no dog did dance that day, When red things up were red things down, Red that never washed away.

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