They are calling me... 
They say I'll get ill if I stay too long 
inside this modern teepee

My body belongs to the raven Earth
and warm breath to the hooting owl winds
turtledove spirits are cooing
thunder flashes a lightning smile
Sun opens his golden parasol
for the Divine mother
long braids of willow branches swing
down trunks with stories 
too numerous carved on them

The air kisses my face and
I remember I have wings

There is a songbird in my throat
and a campfire always burning
in the woodlands of my soul