One Last Dance

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)