Skipping Stones By The Shores of Kitchi-Gummi

Sunrise to sunset, never tires, these eyes that begets
Land that spreads wide, in this Ojibway forest
Rains fall in spring, mingles and flows as the snow melts

Rushing waters flood, through creeks to rivers trough
Running down twisting, turning, churning white froth
“Paddle to the Sea” when an Indian journeyed south

A tale told in a wooden canoe, carved as a toy
Each glide of the blade, shapes the mind of a boy
How far can he go if set free in search of spirits joy

Life all around lives breathing, creatures lay weary
Trespassers gawk to watch nature tell its story
In awe, leaves the mouth hanging, open, filled in glory

Blackbirds perched, peering down beady-eyed
Moose feeding in a bog, antlers sway side to side
Every sound heard, irks, rabbits to bounce and hide

When the heart respects space, exists tranquility
Skipping stones by the shores of Kitchi-Gummi
High as fuck, taking life, nice, slow and easy