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Hear the screeching of the Nighthawk, as its talons grapple
At the tail ends of the moon's rising, dragging it ever upwards, unto
The center of the blackened shroud, of the universe.
This celestial light casts illusion's rays upon the sacred totem,
Transforming wooden carvings, bringing these honored beings to life,
Wood yields unto flesh and bones desire to enter our realm of reality.
Nay the tribal medicine man, bows and grovels low unto them,
These spiritual sacred brethren of the earth and sky, chanting
In native tongue, welcoming them once more unto the land of the living.
By tooth and claw, taking winged flight, may the elemental essence,
Bless thee, and nature itself give strength to sustain thee, so does the
Tribal elder chant, on the whispering winds, that echo from the
Highest Mountains.
Even do these rock giants, seam to bow, unto these deities of the
Supernatural realm, one by one, that come forth, the great eagle to soar,
The mighty bear to guard and defend, the alone wolf to watch over
His tribal flock and the Wiley coyote with his cunning, and stealth.
Then last but not least the wisest of them all, the ancient being the owl,
Whom listens in the night, hearing all secrets, but when asked his eyes
Do so flash, answering only one word's echoing, who.
Running free amongst the living, these sacred beings reveled in
Such wonderful freedom, to feel the warmth of the earth beneath their
Paws once more, to feel the winds currents beneath their wings,
What proud creatures of the neither realm, to join again
To live once more amongst the world of men.
But at dawn's rising a maiden dressed in sacred white skins did
Appear, calling unto them to return therein, to the totem once more.
All came willingly, except for the Wiley Coyote, for a spirit
Of trickery, is he, nay did he refuse to go.
At this response she the maiden dressed in white skins, placed
Her hands in the air, and began a sacred incantation's chant,
And low did appear within her hands grasping, but a glowing dream
Catcher that seemed to burn with an ethereal fire.
Made of vaporous mists, it shimmered and hissed, as if it were
A rattle snake poised to strike, the coyote back into a thicket of wild
Sharpened thorns, daring it to try and take him.
Again she beckoned him return unto for which you came,
Back into thy sacred totem.
But the Wiley coyote would not listen, the maiden
Spoke with venomous malice, then shaking the dream
Catcher, she spoke fetch him.
Hissing, again the dream catcher, grabbed at him,
Dragging him back within the sacred totem, now thee
Shall stay always my Wiley friend, all the others may
Run free unto the next mornings dawning,
Then all was still, and silent as the sun
Rose on the distant horizon.
The maiden vanished; the people were at peace once again,
But the Wiley coyote cries from within the sacred totem, never
To be released from his wooden prison.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
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