Lakota Dreams

Thunder Birds approach on the horizon...

just before the rain -

four-legged's tapping and banging on this old house

and its skeletal windowpanes...

rain dancing across the tin roof

barely touching the gutter,

the thunder growls,

and south winds howl...

earth, bones and walls begin to shudder.

The Owl perched above the loft sits frozen...

yet always keeping his even and steady scowl.

The Ancient Ones spoke of these harbingers...

These Thunder Birds,

and how they would foretell of the Storms to come,

They come now...in my dreams...

before the thunder clouds,

in a crash...in a whisper,

now as clear reflections in a still pool,

but soon reflections obscured...

dark and lost in the ever turbulent streams.