Little Wolf…


Little Wolf…

Once a pretty Ojibwa gal stole my heart and my thoughts. Her coffee brown eyes and golden brown skin made me wish to swim in her kind and gentle eyes.

She was a Spring blessing and I was weighted down with a Winter’s heart.

She loved my poetry and my need for adventure. I gave her the tour of Highway 35 in Texas. We hit every dancehall and tavern from Dallas to San Antonio. She loved the wild Texas sea and we visit her often.

She loved to drink, she loved to dance. She wanted harmless folly and I wanted to be near her.

On the dancehall floor. Two to the right, two to the left. I would hold her closely and I would whisper sweet nothings to her.

She was coy in her words. She wasn’t seeking a lifetime love.

She told me often. You and me, we don’t believe in dandelions wishes. We know, life is now, life must be lived hard and freely. Not praying for a gift of hope to come to us. We must take what we need, never accept less, always take more.

Today Little Wolf words are tattoos into my heart, into my mind. I am still seeking the drink, I am still seeking the laughter and I am still seeking the dancehalls.

Coyote