Then the bay horse wheels north to where the great white giant lives and says:


And yonder there are twelve white horses, all abreast

Manes flowing like blizzard wind

Roaring from their noses

And white geese…all about them…soaring, circling.

Then the bay wheels round east to where the sun shines continually and bades me


And hither there, twelve sorrel horses, with necklaces of elk’s teeth

Stand abreast

With eyes that glimmer like the daybreak star

And manes of morning light

Then the bay wheels once again south to look upon the place where you are always facing

And there stands twelve buckskins, all abreast with horns upon their heads

And manes that live and grow…like trees…and grasses.

And when I had seen All these, the bay horse said:

Your Ancestors are having a council