Dakota Dream

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In the middle of the battle I often think of the Dakota.

A dream, in the mountains, horses

approach snorting, pawing the ground

feathers dangle, but their war paint is missing.

At the campfire I ask, “How

did you survive, when so many

have perished?”

A pipe is silently passed from one

to another, as I inhale, the answers dawn

without words, smoke

takes our prayers to heaven,

and peace again stills the heart

living

within us.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies

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Resting Under the Pine Trees

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With the safety of being under the pine branches, I allowed the light

to find me, only with small streaks.

The warmth of the earth

surprised me, and shadows embraced

my mind, as I lay down

with the smell of Christmas,

I remember hearing

a blue-jay singing

close by

as I drifted off,

dreaming of my spirit floating

over the mountains.

      

 Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies