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| Winds of Change by � iwalkwiththewolf dedicated to my son Tim, who has always believed in me I lay on a grassy knoll beneath a giant oak not far from Walden Pond. I listened to the soft murmuring of the wind in the trees. The sun gently teased between the leaves. "Well, here I am," I thought, "so near to Concord and Lexington and the ghosts of a revolution." In Boston, on the 1994th of July, I knelt on the ground my ancestors knelt on to worship the movers of the sun. My red-skinned ancestors on my mother's side owned this land without owning it. Then my white-skinned ancestors on my father's side owned it with papers and with laws. Who will own this land tomorrow? And will the winds that blow still find trees with leaves that sing so enchantingly? And will this knoll be grassy? And will this knoll be? And who will move the sun? American Cherokee, Copyright 2002, All Rights Reserved |
