Red Leaf
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He is called Red Leaf…. birth child of autumn, and son of the trees
His euphonious legend is heard in the breeze
He is young, he is strong, he has proven his courage
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of the reaper
His spirit was not broken, by the weight of the storm
His steadfastness will not melt like the springtime snow
He has honor, respect, and a gallantry within
His songs are his journey, he plays to soothe the wind
There is prowess, and valor in each haunting lullaby
He was taught by his elders, sad songs that touch the sky
His flute holds the stories, like the sound of lonely larks
Of loss, and death, of drifting smoke, and silent ashes
Of when the mountains cried in anguish, and the sky looked on in pain
But yesterday creates today, and holds a promise for tomorrow
New songs are played, today telling of laughter of the birds
And whispers of a bluer sky, how gentle rain will cleanse the smoke
How buffalo will graze again, where the tall grasses will wave again
Red Leaf warms the tender embers, his memories linger on
He plays the songs that drift away,
Trees above where branches sway
The rock, the leaf, the ruddy dust that coats the valley floor
Someday must return, and be restored, just as it was before
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