Many summers ago when I was young
I walked the pathways of youth
Wanderlust came with the sun
Promising to show me the truth.
As the days of spring grew longer
Wanderlust came only with the moon
Urging me not to tarry
Saying winter would be here soon
Then Crying Owl the shaman
And Howling Wolf the medicine man
Named me Brother of The People
And Wanderlust left the land.
I learned to smoke the sacred pipe
And to make their hot sweet tea
I sat with cousins at a campfire
And chewed the button of peyote.
Now my hair has turned to white
And the great goose flies south in the sky
The moon shall not shine tonight
Ahoka Hey, It is a good day to die.
©Richard
