" The night the old man Dragonfly came to my
grandfather’s house the moon was full. It rose like a
great red planet above the black trees on the crooked
creek. Then there came a flood of pewter light on
the plain, and I could see the light ebb toward me
like water, and I thought of rivers I had never seen,
rising like ribbons of rain. And in the morning
Dragonfly came from the house, his hair in braids
and his face painted. He stood on a little mound of
earth and faced east. Then he raised his arms and
began to pray. His voice seemed to reach beyond
itself, a long way on the land, and he prayed the sun
up. The grasses glistened with dew, and a bird sang
from the dawn. This happened a long time ago. I was
not there. My father was there when he was a boy.
He told me of it. And I was there. "

― N. Scott Momaday , Earth Keeper: Reflections on the American Land