My heart stays in Wyoming,
as Montana calls my name
My spurs and bits ‘a jingling’
my soul goes north again
Cody up through Beartooth Pass,
Cooke City just below
The Great Divide off to my left,
the glaciers ringed with snow
I stop to mourn the western tribes,
as dark clouds form above
The war cry of Tasunka-Witko,
crying out with love
My spirit loose to roam the land,
the great Oglala’s words I hear
Two kindred souls in one last dance,
—as Wakan Tanka draws us near
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)