So cold 
The buffalo's breathe 
Lingers in the air 
Like a frozen cloud. 
Little John, 
Running barefoot 
Through the early  
Morning frost. 
Running for 
Grandmother's lodge. 
The hawk circles 
In rings of campfire smoke. 
The smoke lays heavy 
Over the camp 
Like a mystical cloud. 
A dog barks 
At the edge 
Of the forest. 
A rabbit darts 
Across the field. 
Sunlight breaks  
Across the treetops. 
Bird tracks  
In the frost. 
A mockingbird 
Greets the day, 
His song swirling 
In the mist; 
The misty morning light. 
A baby cries, 
A woman stirs. 
The neighing of a horse, 
Voices in the distance. 
Glowing embers 
In the gray of the buffalo tent. 
Naked bodies 
Warm against each other, 
Warm under the buffalo skins. 
Warm inside the tent. 
Too warm to move; 
Too warm to move. 
The fire crackles, 
The buffalo meat sizzles. 
The savory scent  
Rises from the  
Cracked-frost earth. 
And the bones of the buffalo 
Bleach in the sun. 
The great event has occurred. 
The sun has risen again 
To make his journey across the sky. 
We too have been resurrected. 
Our spirits arise from slumber 
To meet our destiny, 
To journey with the sun 
To the second great event; 
The setting of the sun 
And the resting of our souls. 
The buffalo blinks 
In the early morning light. 
A wealth of wisdom 
In his eyes, in his sight. 
He stands majestic 
In the early morning light. 
Silent Savior 
Giver of life 
Son of the earth 
Breathe of light.  
So cold 
The buffalo's breathe 
Lingers in the air 
Like a frozen cloud. 
Copyright May 24, 2002 JGO/Spanky Mongo