Gray Hawk’s canoe, drifted along the river
While he thought on "The Great Spirit"
The whistling breeze, made a soft sound
Yet, so low, he could barely hear it
Another Brave was fishing
As he stood upon a large rock
The sounds of the water, swishing
Brought contentment to. . . Gray Hawk
"The Great Spirit" sent this gift, of peace
It is His wish, for one and all
His will, being, for all hate, to cease
For all people’s. . . .Great and small
Gray Hawk looked at the Teepee’s
They were a shelter, and private place
His eye’s searching, as far as he could see
Thankful for land, and much free space
Day by day, they led a simple life
Doing what need be, only to survive
Hunting animals with bow & arrow
Only killing enough. . . To stay alive
Yet, today seemed somewhat special
Was it the stillness, as the sun shone down
Upon their little peaceful village
At the foothills, of their town
As dusk started to make it’s way
Gray Hawk, hummed a native song
So calm and relaxed, in this day
As the rippling waters. . .Moved along
Copyright © 2007 Judith Johnson Kypta
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