fall finds a chilled breeze
after the apple fest sends
tourists heading south
ojibway brothers
recall the sacred harvest
following father
into the canoe
knocking sticks pulling wild rice
preserving ancient
ways of forefathers
before cheap casinos and
bad river whiskey
a rice moon tells tribal tales
of a thousand years
May 14, 2008 at 9:15 pm |
wonderful, the ending made my heart go woooo!
May 15, 2008 at 1:14 pm |
You’re gettin’ good at this, pallie…
May 17, 2008 at 4:47 pm |
excellent, very poignant and the more of your haiku sonnets I read, the more I like the form
May 17, 2008 at 11:15 pm |
thanks Juliet
May 19, 2008 at 1:32 pm |
Excellent, Dad!