Across the Battered Clay Rocks

Protectively perched upon his land,
watching over the clay colored cliffs,
reading new sculptures,
examining new change.

Might just be a spirit that howls,
silvered eyes and wavy tress,
what he sees is real,
what he remembers is no lie.

Lights of Violet and red,
yellow and orange flicker,
day as well as night,
punishing his others with the use of the sun.

Coyote howls,
revoking the past,
were the Hares crossed foolishly,
Snakes licked acting delighted.
Howling for his own pack,
that they should have conceived,
the foreshadowing of a two legged creature.

Spirit's eyes beat down on the change,
crying of the destruction,
wishing for a responce to his call.

--All Poems by Tia E
Copyrighted