One song

Some flutes are made out of river cane

and maybe that is why

the wind of the white tailed deer,

the heart beat of the salmon

and love songs

blow under my fingertips …

when I breathe

it is as though we all sing

together

“Perhaps you have noticed that even in the slightest breeze you can hear the voice of the cotton tree; this we understand is its prayer to the Great Spirit, for not only men, but all things and all beings pray to Him continually in different ways.” Black Elk

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