Spirits Walking
~ Of Ancient Man ~

by Ken James McLeod

Buckhorn Wilderness © Ken James McLeod

I do not see them but they are here . . . faint voices of the past in the primeval forest.

I see the berries and plants they once gathered, but not the hands that harvested them.

I see the tracks of animals they once hunted, those that flee from me . . . the modern man.

I know where they slept . . . under the giant cedar trees, but I see not their beds.

The forest is silent now, and some say they are no longer here.

But what is that I now hear . . . faint moccasins stepping

in the wood.

(inspired by a Native American Grave Site near Hazel, Wa.)

KJM

(McPilchuck)

all rights reserved

1999