"Hey, Hey, Hey," would boom her laughter from the gut
through dusty village streets down to the river,
which out of the forest gushed, where laundry was done
and set out on boulders to sun.
Octavia, God rest her soul,
never had need to correct anyone more than once.
One shout was enough to remedy a stammer from birth,
or reshape the pout of brats.
Other than the Hey-Hey-Hey,
and occasional booms over village thatched roofs,
the Medicine Woman's voice
was barely heard.
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