Think of those who came before, 

leaving yellowed bone scrapers,

flaked obsidian spear points 

edging into your present path 

to open dreams into the past.   


Follow elk into the mountains 

ragged against the big sky.

Let trails wash your boots with dust. 

Trace ruts worn bedrock smooth 

by hunters who haunt your passing. 


Those who came before were 

owned by the earth you travel. 

Hear their music in the rain 

drumming on the canyon rim,

their words in rivers’ tongues.   


Tangle your mind in their Salmon nets. 

Feel how their dancing shook the earth. 

Glimpse their flesh in sunsets red. 

Grasp their spirits in clinging clouds 

drifting into valleys you now inherit.   


Look backward through the window 

of your green thoughts’ reflection.