Christmas Journey by Orin


Peacefully, with reverence I view the river

Quietly meandering toward this sand dune.

I sit with spirits who have come before me

Watching as the sun prepares for the moon.


The evening sky, hot with dancing fire colors,

Glows like the old spear maker’s ember pile.

Autumn oak leaves add more brilliant hues

To comfort those who pause here for a while.


Steamboats paddle and churn their way west

Coursing between gray dredge piled banks,

Carrying the life stores of many brave settlers

Who at day’s end stop to eat and give thanks.


Months will pass before they reach the plains.

Some will continue to Rocky Mountains high.

Pristine land where the Missouri River is born

Among jagged peaks rising to touch a big sky.


Tamarack candles radiate their golden light

On spruce trees adorned with cones and snow.   

 White smoke curls from a field stone chimney,

Herds of elk and deer play in valleys below.


This place where the setting sun finds refuge

And wild cutthroats swim sparkling streams.

 Here my spirit has flown this Christmas Eve

  Watching the spirits dancing in my dreams.

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