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.