Would you notice, mind or care
if I left you feathers, for your hair?
Would wild be something you could wear?
A string of spotted red feathers hung there.
At that moment, there was something new, different in facing the wind
a dance was called and drumbeat started, I stood alone, at the end.
You suddenly arrived, coming to me through the crowd. You were bold
in keeping secrets and with a power, making the Grandmothers proud.
Found feathers are a call to rise above myself, to take a stance
make an offering, beyond the kept message of the dream
your smile, we cross and join our hands to two step rabbit dance.
Good things will come, are often not as they first may seem.
If face to face, I promise now
a dreamer given a chance,
at next summer's pow-wow,
I will ask, only you, to dance.