Dark Ice Speaking Long

         He lay unmoving
         in the pale, crumpled snow,
         a faint, far away spirit of a song
         edging its way beyond the cold, black horizon
         stretched across his consciousness.

         Memories. . .
         broken thought thinking,
         his heart heavy with happiness,
         a proud farewell to a good day of dying.

         Before his heart heard the song,
         he remembered.
         He remembered,
         swaying shadows,
         firelight in the fog
         along the river bank
         and the almost naked children singing.

         He remembered,
         the drinking in of the dream,
         the rage river in his heart,
         the pale, shattered crimson,
         the growl of the white bear.
         He remembered,
         the slow walking.

         Dark ice,
         slow fire,
         the faint blue star,
         barking dogs,
         the scream of the swollen mare,
         he remembered.

         He remembered,
         the cry of the loon mother,
         pine bark tea
         and a yellow-eyed wolf.
         The swift beat
         of his own heart
         in the blue sky's wind,
         he remembered.

         He remembered,
         the red blanket talking,
         the sweet taste
         of the autumn eaten plum,
         cold water flowing,
         first horse,
         soft, brown eyes in the firelight
         looking at him.

         He remembered.
         Bluebird. . .
         broken wing singing,
         the wind dance of the black hawk,
         his grandmother.
         He remembered,
         the willows down by the creek,
         the tall grass' whisper,
         the owl babies,
         hickory smoke.
         He remembered.

         Dark ice speaking long in the midnight calm.
         Dark ice,
         dark ice dancing.
         He remembered,
         dark ice,
         slow fire,
         the singing of the long song calm.
         He remembered,
         brown eyes crying,
         the face of an angel,
         the soothing song
         sang of her love.
         He remembered.

         He remembered,
         his mother,
         his father,
         an Appaloosa gelding
         galloping.
         He remembered,
         the tear drops of his happiness,
         first step of his daughter,
         and word.

         He remembered,
         a fireflied sky,
         the wind in the sycamores,
         and the cottonwood's talk.
         He remembered,
         dark ice,
         dark ice dancing,
         dark ice dancing in his heart.

         He remembered,
         dark ice,
         slow fire,
         the eaten up moon,
         a death darkened dog,
         and two coyotes
         dancing.

         He remembered,
         the reaching far beckon
         of his grandfathers,
         a broken, blue star falling
         from beyond the land
         of the light of all happiness.
         He remembered.

         He remembered,
         sassafras fire,
         snow on a cedar thicket,
         fox in lair.
         He remembered,
         dark ice speaking long in the midnight calm,
         dark ice,
         dark ice dancing in his heart.

         He remembered,
         the calling flute sisters,
         the final note
         of their long song gone.
         Before his heart
         heard the song
         from beyond the sun,
         he realized
         he lay dieing
         in the pale, crumpled snow.
         No more his heart
         heard the song,
         no more. . .
         Dark ice,
         dark ice dancing in his heart.