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Hunter and horse are of one,
As they hunt within the dawn.
For each other respect and trust,
In a time long foregone.

The hunter a brawn young brave,
Eagle feather entwined in hair.
Buffalo graze upon Earth Mother,
Their scent drifts in summer's air.

Over the outline of dusty sage brush,
Echoes out a hunter's cry.
Hearts racing adrenaline pumping,
All in great ample supply.

Hooves thunder in the distance,
As they strike the desert dry.
The horse's pace it now does quicken,
Over the plains horse and hunter fly.

The offerings are in full view,
The buffalo run awry.
A race between life and death,
Beneath a clear blue Father Sky.

Around buffalo, horse and brave,
Clouds of dust swirl in the air.
Anticipation and excitement mount,
As they ride on the wind and a prayer.

Buffalo run with all your might,
For the hunter does draw near.
Arrows pierce the flesh and bone,
A victory cry is what I hear.

On this day the hunter is blessed,
And hunger we will not feel.
Proudly along with the wind they ride,
In a time that was once real.

Hunter and horse are of one,
As they hunt within the dawn.
Buffalo awry, bow and arrow,
In the days.
Forever Gone.

©Elizabeth Ann Bushey
January-28-2007©
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Music: "The Hunt"

Composed By: Matthew J. Drollinger
© Matthew J. Drollinger
Used With Permission

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