The Song of the “Fine Young Brave”
The plaintive cry of the gray wolf’s howl.
Distant calls as the Whip-poor-will sings,
and the gentile “whirr” of the humming bird’s wings.
Warming rays from the rising sun.
Replace the shadows one by one,
and warmth begins to fill the air.
The golden leaves glowing everywhere.
Gurgling streams flowing here and there
and a squirrel looking down with a curious stare.
A woodpecker peeks from a hole in a tree.
The erratic flight of a bumble bee.
We work the land with stick and stone
till our backs are bent and our women moan.
We plant our maze, you make it grow,
you give reward for the seeds we sow.
Oh. native spirit, from we know not where,
we feel your presence everywhere.
We feel you in the stars above
and in the gentle “coo” of the Mourning Dove
Your spirit moves throughout the land
from the mountain tops to the desert sand.
We thank you spirit high above.
You bring us hope you give us love.
R.Bruss (Brave Bear)
2021
Gurgling streams flowing here and there
and a squirrel looking down with a curious stare.
A woodpecker peeks from a hole in a tree.
The erratic flight of a bumble bee.
We work the land with stick and stone
till our backs are bent and our women moan.
We plant our maze, you make it grow,
you give reward for the seeds we sow.
Oh. native spirit, from we know not where,
we feel your presence everywhere.
We feel you in the stars above
and in the gentle “coo” of the Mourning Dove
Your spirit moves throughout the land
from the mountain tops to the desert sand.
We thank you spirit high above.
You bring us hope you give us love.
R.Bruss (Brave Bear)
2021
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