Counter Culture

Written by: maggie flanaganwilkie

Today's closing hangs lower than it did yesterday, 
trying to mess with tomorrow's dreams. 

Sitting here, dressed in a wry smile, my heart 
whispers to a sky, tie-dyed with the jewel 
of Navaho stone and the salmon pinks 
of Tsimshian legend. 

I feed myself with steam from Irish tea, 
invoking the memory of my first Lakota sweat lodge, 
and take comfort tracking what's left of tonight in Indian time; 
tomorrow will have to wait 'til I get there. 
This now is meant for savoring the scent, 
sounds, and sights of Mother Earth 
as she gets ready to tamp down the fire 
of a troubled day, leaving my peace 
under the watchful eyes of a Harvest Moon.