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The beautiful obsidian butterfly A kachina doll                                                     Given to a young native girl, by the eldest women in the tribe,                            Along with the stories, that passed down through generations                             How the lullabies and butterflies bring dreams to children                                    And if you stare, at a butterfly to long you will fall asleep                                 The fire just a soft amber glow and the young girl                                               Snug in the bear cloth closes her eyes,                                                             As the black butterfly flutters in her mind                                                           Slowly the changeling dances into a lovely butterfly girl                                   Softly gently beckons her to follow                                                                                    Arising the young girl follows her smoky hair,                                                   Through the top of tipi onto a limb of a great tree                                         The black butterfly with back turned says, Little girl                                       Things are not always what they seem                                                             Turning again toward the girl No longer the playful doll                                           but a black skeletal face of an old woman                                                         A toothy grin and claws like a panther, with great batwings                              The young girl lies cold by the stones                                                               It was not a dream

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