A tipi painted by a dearest friend, a Sioux.
At the home of another dear friend, a Crow.
Not a drop of indigenous of my own, but around me the blessings of friendship.
My childhood in Oklahoma, the territory originally built with tears.
A state constitution stolen from the Cherokee.
Summers in New Mexico, Navajo, and Hopi enchanted my soul.
I walked the pavement of Europe where beneath me were stones laid hundreds of years ago.
That sidewalk was older than the United States of America.
When this land was alive with a kaleidoscope of vibrant cultures.
Respect.
Beautiful AJ Love this and your stories.. Kisses Beth
You have talents
Especially poignant after watching the new Ken Burns documentary on the American Buffalo.