Prints in the Forest

Life, the hint of honey suckle, the pine cones lay

Mushrooms, hiding under the leaves, shed from autumn past

The ivy clings around the trunk of an oak tree

Prints in the wet earth, of the deer, the trail of rabbit feet

The forest brings its peeking flowers, the wild strawberries

The gooseberries, grape vines of plenty, blueberries falling

As a native boy, I would run in these woods, I would hunt

Now, I am grown, I still feel the forest at my feet, and my prints

Cover the ground, as my father and mother look down

I am rich in the blood, for I know this land, we walked

The snow, now covers the mountainside, and the buffalo wear white beards

I smile, as I feel the heart beat of the wolf, and his prints will join us

My climb, has been long, but my faith, even longer, now, I raise my family

And we look into the future, the eagle eyes, challenge our day, with no fears

While our prints in the forest, will always remain, native to our compass