The White Man and the Indian Part One

He rode his horse down the great plain from dusk until dawn
Something about the sunrise, he just felt mesmerized and drawn;
To the beauty of the light it reflected upon the distant plain.
It’s round body making it’s way to the heaven and made his eyes strain.
He rounded a small lake and came to a stop and dismounted his horse
He needed a rest, a drink, and some time to plot his course.

He looked over yonder beyond the lakeshore,
And saw fields of gold, and nothing more.
The wheat swayed slightly in the cool breeze
To him it reminded him of the seven seas.

He wasn’t a native of this foreign land
Yet here he was; he believed fate had played a hand.
He hoped he would find what he came here to seek;
But at the moment his mission looked bleak.

His horse did wade in the water to drink,
While he laid in the grass and let himself sink;
Into slumber; undisturbed and fulfilling
His dreams were heavy and chilling.

When he awoke the sun was over head;
And in his view was a great arrowhead!
An Indian stood there, skin cooper and gold
His hand steady as the spear he did hold.

Slowly he got up, facing the Indian face to face
And the Indian demanded to know how he got to this place.
He told of adventure beyond and how rode from dusk until dawn.
The Indian put down his spear, “Tell me more!” as to the story he was drawn!
He listened intently, and grinned with glee;
How this white man battled the wild wood and didn’t even flee.

Then the Indian stretched out his hand
The white man shook it, glad they could understand;
And the Indian led him through the golden field to the mountain’s edge
And then pointed up to the ledge.

The Indian made his home way up there
And even carved a set of stone stairs!
The white man smiled as the Indian invited him in
Once they got there an Indian woman sat there, paint on her chin.




Her eyes grew wide with fear
But the Indian man explained and told her to hear;
The story the white man told him before
About ships and storms, and crashing to the shore.
The woman sat there, listening in a haze
And then offered him a warm piece of maize.

Then the Indian woman told the white man how they came to be here.
They once lived in the most Northeastern tip of Russian, not far from there;
When they were driven out of their land they crossed the land bridge
Through show and mountain ridge;
They walked no matter come rain or snow
They waded through the river and felt the cool flow.

The Indian woman stood up and pointed down below
“See that field?” That’s what we grow”
When her people came to this land they started the field
Her grandfather built the stairs and the cave to shield;
His family from the hot sun and the cold rain
And even slain;
The toughest tigers in the wood
And used it for meat and to make a warm hood.
Of course, she was just a baby back then
She was one of many in her family of ten.

They offered the white man a warm place by the fire,
As they ate dinner and watched the sun expire.
In the morning, they loaded his horse
With maize and the Indian man helped to plot his course
He would ride through the mountain range
And the white man thought this was very strange.
But the Indian man said he would him to the path
And warned him against God’s wrath.

The Indian woman waved to them as they made their way out
And the Indian woman began to shout;
“Goodbye, white man, we shall seek,
A way to meet again on the mountain peek!”
And the white man waved goodbye
As the horse began to fly.