To Paint the Skies

. 1~ She walked ~ faint footprints left behind A maiden's journey~a silent remind of long-ago days in deerskin dress A shelter of skins won under duress She walks with wind along the Plains Feeds quail and birds the corn remains. Her voice, an octave or two below returns their music as she sows She prays for peace and for the rain She wants her lover back again and corn that reaches up so high it paints the blue across the sky. She wants those days before men came took their children, killed their game She wants the breezes in her hair and mourns those days of little care. ~2~ An archaeologist~grave robber, some say Yet before each dig, she takes time to pray For this is where people lived and died Birthed their young, laughed and cried She finds the footprints under deep sand Preserved for years by Nature's hand And, next to them, some bits of corn A wonderous find, and yet she's torn. Put on display for tourists to stare hallowed ground ruined, many despair. A tug at her heart, the call of a bird~ She decides to leave site undisturbed. As she moves on, she throws some corn For quail and birds to feast upon Perhaps nuggets will one day rise ~ As stalks so high they paint the skies.