Can you remember the clover at late afternoon on a hot summer day? You wore your favorite cutoff blue jeans, fluffy frayed at the ends. Your bare feet were engulfed in deep green dewy coolness.
Do you remember lying down on your back to feel the tickle of that wafting, sweet earth along your sun-warmed limbs while sweet smelling sweat dried at your temples?
Can you see now the marshmallow white cumulus scudding across the blue sky like some ethereal lagoon that you had yet to see but yearned for?
Can you recall the woods at the dead end of hot asphalt where day bright turned to shadow as you entered the leafy cave?
Picking your way along the well worn but narrow path you tried to tread silently on the crunchy detritus like an Indian.
Did you aim and release the power that reached into the forest to capture life that would sustain your tribe?
Do you still remember the young warrior who only knew truth and dignity?
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