174

Melanie Marie Shiffl ett Ridner

Great Spirit

On top of this mountain I stand to pray to the Four Corners.

I call upon the Great Spirit to watch over all.

The village needs your strength.

Wisdom to come as it grows.

Our Mother Earth changes seasons to help us through the centuries.

And show us the ways of the land.

The old ones to whisper on the breezes

so that we may hear their wisdom.

I ask for protection for all

as we journey once again.

Here, Great Spirit, you listen

and we learn.

Great Spirit guide us well.

175

The Four Winds

Falling Leaves

The forests are turning once more.

Our lands are many colors.

Golden yellows, bright burnt reds,

Falling leaves everywhere,

Our Mother Earth decorating herself in colors before the snow falls.

A time of gathering for the tribes to come now.

Cool days with bright sunshine to hurry us along as we work.

The winds blow warm and cold at once.

Soon Mother Earth will go to rest when the snow falls.

But for now, she is beauty in her Falling Leaves.

176

Melanie Marie Shiffl ett Ridner

Swift Winds

I, as Butterfl y Woman, sit in the fall sun to warm my weary bones.

Swift winds bring news to my senses

that winter soon returns once more.

As an old one I sense the change faster than the younger ones.

I gather herbs and plants for the rough winter ahead.

My duty fi rst to the tribe above all else, the tribe is fi rst.

Many teas and medicines will be needed this winter.

The swift winds tell me this cold one will be long and fi erce.

For now I work, and smell, and pay attention

to the swift winds.

177

The Four Winds

Golden Forests

Golden are the forests.

From hunter green to golden yellow and bright red with crimson,

the seasons change in fi ery hue.

Seasons changing as I, Little Bear, hunt for meat for

when the winter snows come.

Beauty as I watch a doe slide by.

I slip to the ground as I see a buck in its entire splendor pause.

Quiet and swift I send an arrow to his heart.

The day will be long as I walk to retrieve and skin my catch.

Leaves fall lightly to the ground.

Snow to come, soon in the air.

As the mists fl oat above, I smell it coming.

For now I must hurry and return to the tribe.

Golden Forests await Winter’s Sleep.