Autumn Songs Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The river is in struggle
Because of the sand at the bottom and the pebbles that get in its way
But it shall overcome and flow again free
On its way to the sea
It’s raining in the desert
Like teardrops from above
With galleries of unknown pictures
In the mud

My naked footsteps are gone in a while
From the heavy rain
That pounds the soil and my bare feet
With its soft caressing drops
I feel them as Inuit songs
From the wilderness
Where my alone thoughts wander
Among the spirits

Today I sat
In front of my tent
And listened to the birds
In their migratory songs
Singing their farewells
Before winter

It’s now time for me
Once again
To dance the Rain Dance
And cut half of my long hair
And burry it into the soft earth
For mourning my ancestors
The going of summer
And for Good Luck