Indian Summer Poem - from the archives

An Indian summer day on Ute trail
Sweat trickles down my neck
like the Shaman’s pony tail.
Aspens scatter their riches on the path,
gold coins beside the dangerous red of poison ivy
and sharp green soapbush.

I am the only warrior running this trail
to the drumbeat of gunfire across the canyon.
I weave like the moaning cedar wind
between the white and brown bones
of Ancient Ones spreading their shade above me.
Unseen except for the gaze of a white-headed Grandfather mountain
with a crescent of Grandmother moon at his shoulder.

Today I am in love with my life.
Where last night I ground my teeth
beneath the weight of the stones I carry,
here I am restored, but for a pair of shoes,
and scatter my stones, runes, among the sun warmed boulders
to change my fortunes.

In the embrace of a mountain fall,
I am lifted.
Surely it is real medicine
to be suckled on warm water and trail dust
and know the pull of mother Earth on an uphill struggle.
When my soul is so full of this day
that my legs will not carry me up one more mountain for the weight
I will rest
until tomorrow’s run.

LB
10/9/04