The Last Mountain Man
the eagle watches me
from high above
it has finally come to this
I stand on this ragged lookout
this jagged rock
alone
my friends are gone
Bruce "Bear Paw" Perry
Billy Fly and Blackpowder Bourgoin
died in these mountains
one by one
we shouldered hardships together
fought a winter
that pinched three toes
from my right foot
and took a bite of my left ear
I'll never understand
those flatlanders down below
where spring means mud
eating pigs and chicken
when they could be roasting elk
but the boosway is gone
rendezvous cancelled
no beaver left
heck, there's no wild Indians left
they've all been herded
into reservations
near the forts
a pitiful place
for a proud people
what is left for me?
where will I lay my trusty
Hawken gun?
perhaps I'll work
in a trading post
or guide wagon trains west
I've earned every tear
these mountains had to offer
battled bear, wolves, and hostiles
but my biggest sorrow
is leaving
I close my eyes
and I'm there
spring ice melting in the river
trading with my Indian brothers
smoking the peace pipe
the rustle of golden birch leaves
on an Autumn ridge
a misty waterfall
soaking me to the skin
throwing peat moss
on the roof of my log cabin
I think I'll just linger here
while the birds are singing
Copyright © Kim Mcadam | Year Posted 2019
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