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)