<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Person" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 14.4px; widows: 1; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class=""></div><div id="solSDDiv" class="w-660 fl" style="width: 660px; color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 14.4px; widows: 1; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); float: left !important;"><div itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork" class=""><div class="poem-detail" style="margin-bottom: 30px; position: relative;"><div id="solSiirMetinDV" class=""><div class="KonaBody" style="padding-right: 5px;"><p style="font-size: 17px !important; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif !important; line-height: 23px !important;" class="">Eagle Feather Fan</p><p style="font-size: 17px !important; font-family: Roboto, sans-serif !important; line-height: 23px !important;" class="">The eagle is my power,<br class="">And my fan is an eagle.<br class="">It is strong and beautiful<br class="">In my hand. And it is real.<br class="">My fingers hold upon it<br class="">As if the beaded handle<br class="">Were the twist of bristlecone.<br class="">The bones of my hand are fine<br class="">And hollow; the fan bears them.<br class="">My hand veers in the thin air<br class="">Of the summits. All morning<br class="">It scuds on the cold currents;<br class="">All afternoon it circles<br class="">To the singing, to the drums. </p><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue'; font-size: 18px;" class="">N. Scott Momaday</span></div></div></div></div></div></div></body></html>