( Amindinco )  Lone Bird: 

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Near the Rockies, in the Mojave,

Dwelt a squaw, of great reknown.

On desert nights, she can be seen

With wings �?and  feathered down. 

 

In the spirit, of the Yokut tribe,

Just Before the white man came,

A gift was passed to a favoured few,

"Shape Shifting" was it's name.

 

In times of harvest, she'd be there,

In her dress and moccasins,

She had made from animal hide,

Hair braided ...  beads within. 

 

The Tipai tribe, had heard of her,

She helped harvest acorn seeds,

For when she's charmed,  birds from far,

Their harvest time . . .proceeds. 

 

As she sat on  desert hill,

Chanting Hokan to the skies,

The Tipai tried to take her,

But, The Yokut heard - her cries.

 

As the Tipai crept towards her,

She vanished to ... somewhere,

Now, just before each harvest time,

A Lone Bird - flies  in air.

 

(c)  ZYDHA HART  2003

 

( Amindinco ) - Running Elk

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A brave of the Shishonian tribe, had never hunted deer.

His time had come, to ride with men,

But he waited with great fear.

 

In eighteen forty, white men came and thought it sport indeed,

To hunt the elk for fun and bets

Despite Shishonian need.

 

The elk gave clothes and shelter both, food for all the triblet.

Alas, white men had run herds down

To what was now a dribblet

.

The day arrived, with feathers donned, he rode for many miles.

They found the herd was massacred

And the white men sat with smiles.

.

An atmosphere of hate and dread, few stood midst dying beasts.

Hunger showed on white mans face,

Not for deer, as 'sporting' feasts.

.

As angry braves, broke into run, the herd began to rise.

The white men were too late to mount

And were trampled down to size.

.

The moral here, is plain to see, from many years back then.

Don't kill for sport, leave nature be,

Or nature kills again.

 

(c)  ZYDHA HART  2003