places to post poetry

Many who had hiked through Canadian wilderness
[ A century ago ] Took notice of a bird in flight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

At once: a hunter, a guide, a trapper
A living made from the furs in his sight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

Into his forest lair, he gave shelter to a pair
Of beavers & a female pony
Beautiful, willful, contrite

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

He recorded every caper onto pages of paper
Turned articles & books
Thousands read his every insight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

He took bold strides to speak for trees & wild lives
Nature’s preservation against devastation became his plight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

Then he travelled to an evening pow-wow,
Where he’d shown native chiefs how
He embraced their ways,
Mastered their sacred dances by firelight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flies by night

In Canada & England, news had spread:
One day at home, he was suddenly dead

His secret’s out: The “Red Indian”
Was English & White

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flew by night

But never mind the buckskins, the feathered headdress, the moccasins
Or false tales about his past, every sleight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flew by night

His other steps were true, after all,
Preventing ecology’s steady fall
What mattered was the nature of his fight

A rare one the Ojibwa called
Washa-quon-asin–He who flew by night.

______________________________
W: Canadian Aboriginal Day 2014
[ For Archibald Belaney a.k.a. Grey Owl–1888 – 1938. ]

*OJIBWE: “Grey Owl”.