Charming, Weaving Potent Trances

Drumming, rolling, thundering all
Visions of spirits to Indians call
Magical moonlight, silvery pall
Natural blessings on villages fall

Warriors dancing, music in the air
Wide-eyed children bundled with care
Carefully watching, silently stare
Mysterious shadows, everywhere

Crackling fires, stories to tell
Women in circles listening well
Words of the chieftain clear as a bell
Buffalo tasties cooked in a shell

Humming, prattling, maiden glances
Signaling lovers, taking chances
Into the forest, deftly prances
Charming, weaving potent trances.

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Published by monkmoonman

I'm a soapbox Irishman with a fever to set things right in the world. I write stories and poems about the planned genocide of Native Americans, the troubles of youngsters trapped in Special Ed classes, and the fallacy of celibacy in the Catholic church. If you're feverish like me, tune me in.

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