GIVE ME SEPTEMBER

GIVE ME SEPTEMBER

Some folk I know prefer the spring .

Others like it when song birds sing.

Some look at the winter glee.

But give me September.

Then gone is every insect pest,

The mosquitoes , midges, and all the rest.

Those days I love the best.

But, give me September.

I noted one day on a gravel way ,

A sample of grit that was rare.

A bold seedling pine,

With needles so fine ,

Its life span striving to be there.

And the Parry Osprey on it south leading wings ,

Beats the air in tooting and talking .

Its affairs worked hard all summer long.

The ant like the bee ,

In industry ,

Does labor the whole summer long .

With respect sincere and ,

The winter severe ,

Its life span, too ,

It strives to prolong.

In this life of woe every thing likes to hang on.

And those healed dear ,

While passing down here,

You're not forgotten soon after your gone.

VJM/Ni'na Se'ke'j (Spirit of the White Wolf),

Pikto'l Sa'ke'j Miu's / Victor James Muise..

VISION OF HEALING ONE'S INNER SELF

Vision of Healing One's Inner Self

Once there was a man, who wandered though the forest deep and over the extensive wilderness in one blistery brightened day.

He found at a small creek draining from the North onto the warmed Southern gentleness of stillness, then through him as the ripple of the creek sang a slow melody to him.

A VISION appeared from the stillness of the water side.

All senses glimpsed within a spirit's eyes and he could see a shadow that no other could see.......A young vibrant girl, morning delight, full of ambition, trapped in a vision of the past and creeping slowly into the future , of the wandering eyes.

Nothing more than a flash rushed through his self conscious mind, of her gently holding a baby in the bosom of the shadow and holding a medicine bag, touching mother ever so gently.

Tears of delight, wet as the creek, rippled down his cheeks and vanished back to mother.

A rush of air from the East, a breath took its toll.

No one could understand, nor the bond that bonded with the rolling hills....... Until nightfall, when his energy started to emerge from sickness and slowly faded away.

VJM

This was composed Feb.2004

Pikto'l Sa'ke'j Miu's / Victor James Muise