The sound of the Big Hole lapping, moving slowly, October-like. I could sit here and breathe in the sage till I filled up with the fragrance so big, so strong, that I explode. Little pieces of me would fling for a mile across the river, into the cottonwoods, over the prickly pear and the juniper, till they finally reach the golden eagle rookery.

And a young eagle will say to its mother, "What're all these little pieces of stuff falling from Heaven; looks like aspen leaves, but it's not." And his mother would answer, that's just pieces of that woman who loves sage. I've seen her here before. I've seen her pick sage twigs and juniper twigs and put them in her pocket. I've seen her looking up at us when we're in the sky, craning her neck back till she fell over. I've seen her sitting on the ground, holding sage against her nose, breathing it in. I knew something like this would happen to her if she kept doing that. She probably knew it too.

She loves this place. She loves our sky, our river, the willow, the juniper, the greasewood, the rocks, the old bones, the wild flowers; everything of the earth and sky she loves. She even loves every high-tailed little chipmunk that scurries around. You know, the ones we like to eat for dessert? I know all this because I've watched from the sky-with my eagle eye!

I've seen her on her back staring at our sky, watching the clouds roll across: the dolphin clouds, the shark clouds, the lace clouds, the long finger clouds. I've seen her face down on the ground, kissing it! Can you imagine? And that's where she wanted to be---a part of the earth---and that's what she is now. She breathed in so much sage power she just exploded. Sage Ecstasy.

I've heard her pray for rain, a healing rain, and it would come. Whatever she asked for, it would come. She asked to be a part of mother earth, and now you see these tiny pieces floating through the air like dry aspen leaves. They ARE sage woman, and she has come home. She has come home.