"far away," said the matriarch,

"i once heard from the tongue of a lark

Of golden days

Of bow and drum

And of men who chased.

Now they come in rags of greed,

No regard for our dignity."



She began to dream

And the wind did rage

And the forest cried

"run away," she told him then,

"find a place to hide from them."



Far away from behind a tree

Came a sound to defy the peace

And the son went down

Quietly in a pool of reeds



"of bow and drum"

Monday, may 6, 1996