Back When

Where the sky touched forever,

with distant mountains beckoning.

Where even the prairie grass beneath

appeared to be a moving thing.

A warming breeze brushed across

like waves upon a sea.

As buffalo in countless numbers

grazed there peacefully.

While there along a dry creek bed

he moved without a sound.

For the moccasins upon his feet

were like feathers floating down.

In one hand he held an arrow.

In the other was a bow.

And his purpose was but one alone.

To take a buffalo.

Where the creek bed leveled out a bit

he stopped and took his place.

With arrow set he drew the string

till two fingers touched his face.

Then kneeling there his breath released

as the arrow speed away.

And life once lived in total freedom

saw needs get met that day.

When darkness fell, a large camp fire,

did warm and shed it's light.

As the hunter showed, with sparkling eyes,

how the Great Spirit held the arrow's flight.