Bison without number darken the plain;
wildflowers sway in a warm summer’s rain.
Wolves come to beg near the edge of the camp;
someone tells stories by an open oil lamp.
The warriors return from a hunt in the wild;
tears of a maiden as she brings forth a child.
Elders respected for the wisdom of age;
a lover who smells like mint and sweet sage.
Medicine Men cry to the Spirit for Grace;
my grandmother’s smile from a much younger face.
These are all visions that run through my mind;
things I’ve not known, but feel I must find.