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
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