Peace started calling early,
when I was young,
but I still wanted the thrills.
My mini-bike was fast,
very fast, and I loved the sound,
of the engine roaring,
pulling back on the throttle,
and riding secretly down the street.
Then there was Jeannie Crawford,
I could not believe that girl,
was real. Awestruck.
Still, we had moved to the country,
and something there was real.
It faced me everyday –
as I looked out of my bedroom window,
fields, and woods, and further out
corn fields with deer. I felt it
The trails and trees became my friends,
especially in the winter,
enveloped by the whiteness,
drifting to another world,
somewhere out there.
Was that a Cheyenne warrior?
He looked at me with questions,
in his eyes.
I said, “I do not know why”.
I thought of history with tears,
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee.
I was still – inwardly,
until searching made me cold.
Peace in the cold felt right though.
I headed back for some tomato soup,
and peace followed me for awhile,
until I saw Jeannie Crawford.
© Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree