something made me take paws, to know the place I carved paved over by industry. I saw a rabbit run that made me screech my brakes. I saw in the distance four coyotes pacing under new lamps and a new street.

Reminded of time they were there as thorns brush looking at me carving. Knowing I had nothing to do with them but my work. That was 2010, I want to believe that pack is part of one that is eternal to land that has duty to land. I went as far to pull off the road to see if one would come to me.

put my hand on the pavement, and express my memory of my heritage. One that stayed long enough to be a cars length from me, circled and got called away.

In some way I want to know, our relationship was not so far from broken, my thoughts will always be this.

A reminder of four coyotes and a black dog story I know that felt like a myth to me until I have experienced such thing. When I asked my closest known where the grandson of dog in that story is.

it is mystery, I want to think it was me. but the story is not that.

Some place I have time afford to me, work on my hands to do. When I am not social. I have no time because I have obligation.

my heart beats fast as the rabbit that is chased.

a new house will be at the place of our people now. And without me making it’s foundation I am distantly proud of it’s existence as my grandmothers mission was to see a place of belonging for those who need to find themself thru song.

There are songs that people will never know I know and know only with known.

by guard of my life I know in my heart this can be shelter for being and heart.

We as People here are not clan adhere to physical beings as much as songs. The land upon which the house stands was a farm and before it steward and maybe walked by Chief
Sitwell, A literal few would understand my sentiment in my statement. My time is my time and I regard myself as a hand in time grasping what I can understand with what moves me.