My name is Joseph Bruchac, and I’ll be reading my poem, “Winter Counting.”
“Winter counting.” How many winters do you have? That’s how we ask someone their age. The snow that fell, then melted away reminds us that we still are here. It’s easy to count your age by years. We think winter counting is a better way. It makes us grateful for the spring when every bird and every flower welcomes us to a whole new time. Then sunshine is in every heart. And as we smile we ask each other, “How many winters do you have now?”