Red Plums Wild

To preserve this day, I pick red plums wild Within my soul, I dream a while A vision ancient, to me smiles Of plums growing wild in thickets dark There for taking by man or lark Beside running waters where beaver barks I hear the drum for miles Smoke signals lifting high in sky On summer's breeze they drift and sigh Indian village steals my eye Women gathering, pounding, grinding Saving fruits for summer's ending In cakes for winter's cold day feasting 'Round evening fires, high and dry Painted ponies heading west Hunter's talismans cover chests Put their knapping skills to test Not one willing to be the lag Arrow drawn to down his stag Rights this night will be to brag Whose spearpoint flew the best Allegiance to "Great White Father" sworn Many moons later, treaties torn Their ways, their days, their hopes forlorn For wild plum cakes and venison stews Thought safe in tepees 'neath cold skies blue Sore gleaning here in peaceful view For them I shall forever mourn While picking I shall forever mourn