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I hear the
whisper of the wind as it flows down from the mountains,
I feel it's icy touch upon my skin.
I hear the eagle sing his spirit song as he dances on the
wind.
The powdery snow still lingers,
wrapping the earth in it's warm embrace.
I see where the mighty bear has crossed my path,
a being of beauty power and grace.
This is a place where man can be free to walk the land,
and live his life in the Spirit's hand.
A frosty mist from my pony's nose,
the feel of the rifle cradled in my hands,
the smell of the skins upon my back
and the beaver dollars that fill my pack.
I live here in heaven in a shinning time,
high atop the world in a place of beauty and peace.
Here I will rest when my time is at end, in this place,
held by the Spirit's hand. |