They Call Him Timber Wolf

Peace within the hollow of the tree, the sound of the leaves as they fall

The quiet of the day, only wrestling rabbits and squirrels in free play

The heart of a young native man, calling, to reach out, to his land

To the villages, where he lived, the challenges ahead, they call to him

With the song of the wind, the spirit of the hawk, and the dance of the eagle

Where the drums, beat against their callused hands, and the black crows stand tall

In the many corn fields, where the hands planted the many seed, and we watched them grow

They call him Timber Wolf, he has been faithful to his tribe, his wife, and now he will lead, as Chief

Howling upon the steamy fog, floating past the full moon, so very high, let them hear

The call, of a hungry man, a hungry hunter, a reason for living, a reason for believing

The earth, and the sky, will hear his call, and the wolves will run in the woods, panting,

A pack strong, where they travel among, a future lies ahead, beyond the calm of the trees

The Timber Wolf will lead and those smart, and beautiful, shall meet on the other side

In the rise of the blistering heat of the golden sun, we shall drink from the cool, of the coldest of creeks