Wolves far-off prowling

across brown sage-brush seas

prairie wind howling

high up in creaking cottonwood trees

rhythmic spirits chanting, distant screaming

ghosts of children long asleep

restless souls a-dreaming

dreams of buffalo grass and six horned sheep

nuggets of gold lying in the ground like half-buried bison bones

along lost winding trails

among rattle snakes and prairie dog homes

wind spirits calling, telling old tales

of buried treasures, lost gold mines and gem stones

of nameless graves and forgotten Indian braves

by Hugh M. Lewis