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BIKING the WABASH
The bike trail hugged the Wabash River,
the sleepy, shallow, stony Wabash.
Beyond the whir of the wheels
I heard bird songs and
watery ripples.
Across the waters of time
I saw villages of
men, women,
children and elders,
people of the Miami tribe.
There were cooking fires
and council fires,
hunting parties
and war parties.
There was beauty
and ugliness;
laughter and
wailing.
Now they are gone and
I will never know them,
But the Wabash remembers.
8/25/2010 - mshr
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